Windows to the Soul
by geekreader42
Summary: Dragon Age 2 fanfic from beginning to end. F!Hawke/Fenris romance eventual, shenanigans and adventure abound. Rated M. This is my first try, so please rate and review!
1. Author's Note

_Author's Note: Some dialogue will be direct from the game; a lot will be my own writing. The fic will follow the story line of the game, but I will be adding pieces such as the years between acts._

_Disclaimer: BioWare owns the Dragon Age universe, I hold no claim over it._

Now to the next chapter to begin the story!


	2. Hawke's Flight

The windows to the soul.

As Hawke gazed into the molten yellow eyes, she wondered what the Witch saw in her own pale grey. Sorrow, certainly. She was self-aware enough to know that it wasn't the smoke from the dragon's fire or the smell of burning darkspawn that made her eyes water. Bethany's corpse lay not five feet behind her and the devastated remains of Lothering could still be seen beyond the hills. Curiosity, perhaps? Despite battling their way through the 'spawn and running for their lives, was it unreasonable for Hawke to be curious about the Witch of the Wilds standing before her? Could she, and her offer of help, be trusted? Strength and resolve hardened behind the tears that did not fall and she stood a bit straighter. Her job was to get her family away from the blight and safely to Kirkwall. That had not changed.

"There must be a catch." Hawke said.

At that, the Witch laughed and taunted, "There is always a catch! Life is a catch! I suggest you _catch_ it while you can."

"Should we even trust her?" Carver demanded quietly. "We don't even know what she is."

_I do, little brother._ Hawke thought silently, but it was Aveline that responded, "I know what she is. The Witch of the Wilds."

The Witch shrugged as she replied casually, "Some call me that. Also Flemeth, Asha'bellanar, an old hag who talks too much." Hawke felt Carver stiffen beside her at the name Flemeth. Their father had told many a tale of the sorceress as the children grew up. None were pleasant. "Does it matter?" Flemeth continued. "I offer you this, I will get your group past the hoard in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a Witch of the Wilds?"

Molten yellow met steel grey and both looked trough the windows into the other. An unfathomable swirl of power and hatred, humor and regret mixed chaotically with perhaps a touch of insanity behind the eyes of the Witch. _But no treachery._ Hawke breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"We don't have much choice."

"We never do. There is a clan of Dalish elves near the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it, and any debt between us is paid in full." Hawke took the amulet in question and placed it around her neck. As she dropped the pendant beneath her shirt the Witch stepped away and spoke again. "Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter." She gave Hawke and meaningful look and the two turned to Aveline who knelt by her wounded husband, Wesley.

Standing as they approached Aveline stepped protectively in front of Wesley. "No. Leave him alone."

"What has been done to your man is within his blood already." Flemeth said, almost sadly.

"You lie!"

Wheezing painfully, Wesley tried to calm his wife. "She's right Aveline." The red-haired warrior took a shuddering breath at her husband's words. "I can feel the corruption inside me."

_The darkspawn blood must have gotten into his wound. I _knew_ he didn't look good._ Hawke glanced apologetically at Aveline.

"Then how much time before you…"

"Not long now; if I am any judge." The Witch commented.

"There must be something we can do." Hawke almost pleaded. _He may have been a Templar, but no one deserves to go like _that.

"The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden."

"And they all died at Ostagar."

"Not all, but the last are now beyond your reach."

Aveline knelt beside her husband again and the two began exchanging quiet words. Wesley was begging his wife to end his life before the corruption took its course. Aveline struggled in indecision and Carver made a move to step in. Hawke placed a firm hand on his chest and shook her head. She knelt across from her new friend and said softly, "He's your husband Aveline. I can't decide his fate."

The warrior nodded mournfully and unsheathed Wesley's dagger as he whispered, "Be strong, my love." Together, husband and wife held the blade and each other and ended his suffering.

Hawke and Aveline stood and rejoined Carver and Hawke's weeping mother. Flemeth's words, "Without an end, there can be no peace," fell on the group without comfort. "It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun."

Hawke and the rest of her group followed slowly behind Flemeth as she moved into the clearing. When the wind gathered and the Witch of the Wilds was once again a dragon, Hawke's mother tugged on her daughter's sleeve. "We can't just leave her… Those monsters would…" Her words stopped, choked by sobs as she looked desperately back at Bethany's broken body.

Hawke turned back to her sister and took a steadying breath. She gathered a small amount of flame in her hands and glanced askance at Aveline. The widow nodded and stood by her side as Hawke cremated the fallen.

_Ashes we were and ashes we become_, Hawke repeated silently the prayer Wesley had spoken over her sister as she watched the fire. A strong, if gentle, nudge from the scaled nose of the dragon brought her attention back to the living. Her family had climbed on the dragon's back and was waiting for her. She allowed Flemeth's giant claw to lift her to the great beast's back. She positioned herself between the powerful wings, her mother shifted nervously between her and her Carver, his strong arm keeping her seated firmly.

"Let us be off, then." Hawke whispered and the dragon launched skyward.

Now clear of the world below, Temperance Hawke surveyed the blighted wreck that had been home. The damage was… everywhere. Nothing had survived. The hoard stretched across the landscape like a black hand of death leaving nothing but taint and fire and rubble in its wake.

A surprisingly short time later, the dragon landed in a clearing a half-mile from the outside of Gwaren. Hawke slid off first. "Scoot forward Mother so Carver can jump down." She did as she was instructed and Carver didn't slide so much as tumble from the dragon's back. "Graceful." She teased.

He glared at her but said nothing. Carver then raised his arms to their mother. "Jump, Mother, I've got you."

Leandra Hawke nodded and closed her eyes as she slipped down the scaled back and into Carver's arms.

Aveline landed beside them a moment later and once everyone was on the ground, Flemeth took her human form to address them. "This is as far as I go. You are past the hoard; the rest is now up to you." She turned her back to them and the light of her transformation surrounded her; just before the transformation was complete, she said to Hawke, "Do not forget our bargain."

The amulet heated against her skin as the dragon took off, and then they were alone. _As if I could forget_, Hawke sighed clutching the amulet through her shirt. "Come on, I saw Gwaren to the north. We'll have to catch a ship."

The group began the trek north and made good time getting to the city. Gwaren was in tumult as refugees fleeing the Blight begged and pleaded and bartered to get on board any ship traveling to the Free Marches. "Stay close. We don't want to get separated." Hawke stated calmly as they forged into the throng of people.

"Do we have the coin to get passage?" Aveline asked.

"That depends on how much these captains are driving prices. So many people fighting for so little place…" Carver muttered frustrated. "We may have to literally fight for a ship."

"Oh, Carver, don't say such things." Leandra cried. "I don't want you risking yourself. Your sister will find us a ship; don't worry."

_No pressure._ Hawke sighed and started using her staff as a walking stick and convenient crowd control. Soon she guided her family to the docks and looked around. This area was even busier than the market district they had just left. "Aveline, please stay with Mother and Carver; keep them safe while I go talk to captains."

Aveline nodded, but Carver grabbed his sister's shoulder, indignation clear on his face as he said, "You just told us not to separate. Where do you think you're going _by yourself_?"

She shrugged his hand off and repeated, "Stay with Mother. I'll be fine, promise." She slipped into the crowd before he could say another word and made her way to the ships. Making a quick sweep of the captains, Hawke immediately eliminated a few options. She would not trust her family to just anyone, and certainly not to anyone who stood laughing as impoverished peoples begged at his feet. A part of her really wanted to set his malicious arse on fire, but that would not be productive.

She tried talking to several captains and sailors, but they were all either full or demanded too much. She did not have much coin and she would really, really, _really_ rather not offer herself as payment. Something she noticed quiet a few of the young women were doing. She would if there was absolutely no other way, but she hadn't checked all of the ships, so she wouldn't jump into bed with anyone yet.

Shaking her head slightly, Hawke made her way over to a promising captain. The sailor was a head taller than her own not inconsiderable height and was helping lead a family with three small children on board his ship. She stood quietly by the boarding plank while he lent his assistance, waiting her turn to talk to him. As she lingered the family took the last of their things on board, but when the biggest of the children turned around to help his mother, he knock his youngest brother on the head with his swinging arm. The toddler stumbled back and fell off the plank into the cold water, hitting the back of his skull on the dock on the way. Without thought or hesitation, Hawke dropped her staff and dove in after him; she swam a little ways before she found the boy in the murky water. She grabbed him and kicked powerfully to the surface; when she broke the surface strong arms lifted her and the boy onto the dock.

The mother trembled hysterically as she reached for her child. "Peter! Darling, wake up! Maker, he isn't breathing!"

"Serah," still clutching the child, Hawke whispered to the frantic woman; when their eyes met she continued quietly, "I can heal him." The woman's eyes widened briefly and she nodded. Hawke closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. She placed her hand an inch above the boy's chest and let the warmth of healing magic spread from it to his center. _Water in his lungs, a bump on the head, no permanent damage though._ She released the magic to its work now that she could direct it, and with a great gasp Peter's eyes flew open and he started breathing on his own.

"Thank you! Oh thank you, Serah! Maker be praised!" The woman pulled the little boy into her arms and hugged him fiercely. She stood with him still in her arms and walked him back onto the ship.

Hawke sat, wet, cold, and tired, and smiled contentedly. It was a moment before she noticed the large captain's eyes on her. She dropped the smile and turned to look nervously at him. He continued to stare at her, though into her eyes now that her head was turned, and seemed to be appraising what he'd just seen. She made appraisals of her own as she looked back at him. _Kindness, that's good. Reliability and trustworthiness. Clever and intelligent. This is who I'd trust to get us to Kirkwall._

He spoke first. "That was a brave thing you did."

"Which part? The diving in or the blatant use of magic after?" She asked finally breaking eye contact to look for her staff.

He handed the long shaft of worked wood to her and pulled her up by it when she grabbed hold. "Both. You're an apostate." Not a question, so she did not answer. "Where are you headed?"

"Kirkwall."

"Anyone traveling with you?"

"Three others."

"Gather them and return. We cast off in fifteen minutes."

She nodded and smiled with relief. Hawke took off to find her family to bring them to their ship. She spied the redhead easily among all of the dark-haired Fereldans, as she hoped she would, and pushed her way through the crowd. "We have passage, let's go."

"Maker! Temperance, you're soaked!" Her mother gasped.

"It's nothing, just went for a quick swim is all." She evaded as she brought them over to the ship. Looking at the side of the ship, Hawke noticed the name for the first time and laughed out loud.

"What's so funny, Sister?"

"The ship's name." She pointed to the carved letters and quietly laughed again. Carver just shook his head, walked faster, and mumbled something about Hawke having hit her head. She glowered at his broad back before catching up. She stopped in front of the plank and waited for the captain to notice her arrival. When he did she asked, "Permission to come aboard, Captain?"

He walked over and stood in front of her, looking over at her companions. "Permission granted, Serah…?"

"Hawke." She grinned.

He actually chuckled a little himself and led the way aboard. As Hawke reached for her pouch of coins he shook his head. "That won't be necessary Serah Hawke." She smiled at him and muttered a thank you. "You and your family will be in the hold with the rest of the refugees. It isn't much, but I promise to get you all to Kirkwall safely." Once the short tour was complete the captain turned to face the group. "I am Captain Verga. Welcome aboard _The Hawk's Flight_."


	3. Being Strong

The toss of the ship on the waves made an unpleasant situation nearly unbearable. Refugees, unused to the rocking and lurching, moaned dismally; several loosing what little lunch they'd eaten. The smell of bile and depression added to the overwhelming stench of unwashed human and desperation combining in a way that made Hawke's eyes water.

_Of course, you could just be crying._ She scolded herself. She had to be strong for Mother. The tired, grey-haired woman leaned against Carver, weeping silently into his broad shoulder. But Hawke could not afford to be weak. She mourned Bethany's loss; like an ache deep within her soul it clawed at her heart, but she could not let it show.

She glanced at Carver, Bethany's twin, and wished her brother didn't have that look of anger contorting his face. He did not spare her anything with that look. _He blames me. I should have been faster to stop her from that damned ogre. I just wish he'd mourn like a normal person; it isn't healthy to bottle up that kind of emotion._

Completely missing the hypocrisy in that thought, Hawke shuffled her way over to Aveline. The sound of the sea and movement within the hold made a private conversation possible, if one kept to a whisper. "Aveline."

"Hawke."

"How are you… holding up?"

The somber warrior glanced at Hawke, then to Carver and Leandra, before settling her eyes on her hands. "I feel… I shall never be clean of his blood." She fisted her hands until the knuckles were white.

"You ended his suffering."

"I know. It was the merciful thing to do, but… the stain of it… it will always linger." Hawke nodded and placed a gentle hand on Aveline's still closed fists. Slowly, the warrior relaxed her hands and allowed Hawke to twine her fingers with her own. Hawke gave a strong, hopefully reassuring squeeze. "Thank you, Hawke. I needed that."

Hawke nodded and released her hand. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the side of the hold with a deep sign. "Maker, I wish I could get Carver to open up," she admitted. "Bethany was his twin, he shouldn't just sit there and… brood."

"What about you, Hawke?" Aveline asked seriously.

Her bottom lip quivered so she stubbornly bit it so that it would stop. "I'm the eldest. Father… when he died, he told me to look out for them. Even Mother. I can't break down into a simpering heap. Not yet. Not until they're safe."

"Your father would want you to mourn."

Hawke shook her head, opening her eyes to look at Aveline. "He would take care of the family first. Our needs were placed above his own. Always. I can do nothing less in his place."

Aveline opened her mouth to speak, a question clear in her eyes, but she hesitated. Hawke let her find the words, though she suspected what the question would be. "Hawke… I feel I have to ask. What did you do to secure our passage? Captain Verga wouldn't take your coin…"

"I was waiting to talk to Verga about passage while he helped a family get on board. One of the little boys fell into the water, hitting his head on the way in. I jumped in after," she gestured meekly to her wet clothes, "and brought him to shore. He wasn't breathing though, so I healed him. Captain Verga saw, I guess, and decided to let us aboard."

"That was very noble."

"He apparently thought so too."

As if speaking of him could summon the man, Captain Verga crept quietly into the hold. Hawke noticed that he wasn't so much trying to hide his presence, rather, that he always moved as quickly and softly as he could. He moved his way through the refugees towards Hawke. "Serah Hawke. May I speak with you a moment?"

Hawke glanced at Aveline, who nodded her head in farewell, and then stood. She stumbled a bit as a particularly strong wave thrashed the ship, but strong hands we quick to catch her before she fell. Hawke steadied herself and mumbled a thank you. She allowed the captain to lead her out of the hold and onto the deck. Once in the open, Hawke stopped and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply the fresh sea air. She allowed it to cleanse her thoughts and the remaining smells of the hold.

Politely, Captain Verga waited for Hawke to open her eyes again before commanding her attention. "Serah, if it isn't too much trouble, I'd like a favor."

"What is it Captain?" Hawke asked respectfully.

"One of my men got twisted in the rigging as we were leaving port. I was hoping you'd be so kind as to take a look." He explained.

"Of course, lead the way."

The captain led Hawke to the crew quarters quickly and opened the third door on the left. He followed her in and shut the door. The man on the cot tried to sit up to greet the captain, but Verga motioned for him to relax. "Formal greeting isn't necessary when you can't leave a bed, sailor."

"Yes, Captain." The man sighed as he relaxed back into the cot, though he cringed at the movement.

Hawke moved closer to the sailor as she examined him with her eyes. He left leg was a bloody mass of hastily done bandages and his right arm was in a sling. He also had a cut on his head, but the bleeding seemed to have mostly stopped already. "You say he was caught in the rigging?" She asked.

The sailor jumped and then winced at the sound of her voice, clearly not realizing someone else had arrived. _He must be in a great deal of pain not to notice someone else was in the room._

"Yes. From the report I received, he was suspended above the deck for a bit before he fell. From my inspection, I believe his shoulder to be dislocated. The rope dug and cut into his leg, fairly extensively. I'd have had a tourniquet applied, but I was hoping you might be able to help instead."

Hawke nodded and knelt next to the bed. "Do you have clean water I could use? I need to clean the wound before I can safely heal it."

Captain Verga nodded and swiftly exited. When he left, Hawke drew her attention back to the wounded man. "What's your name, sailor?" She spoke softly, calmly, removing her wet, restrictive leather vest as she did so.

"I…Ianto." He stammered.

"Nice to meet you, Ianto, my name is Temperance. I need to take a look at your injuries, try to relax." She gently placed her hands on his face to look at the head wound. She frowned, slightly confused, when the drying blood thinned and began running down his face again.

"S…Serah. Why are you wet?" Ianto asked.

"Shh… try no to speak. I took a little swim earlier. No need to worry." She realized her dripping hair had cleaned away a little of the blood.

"She is the one I told you about. She rescued the little boy." Verga had returned. He placed a basin of water by her feet and knelt next to her by the cot. "Forgive me, Serah, for not offering something for you to dry off with."

"It's alright. You were busy getting us away from the Blight. I forgive you." She took the rag that Verga held out for her and dipped it in the water. She gently began cleaning the blood from Ianto's face. "Head wounds bleed a lot, even the shallow ones. This appears to be fairly shallow, but I'll make sure there's no internal damage before jumping to conclusions."

Satisfied that the area was clean and that the wound had not reopened, Hawke moved on to the much more serious leg injury. His leggings had already been cut away from the area, leaving the injury accessible.

Dipping the rag into the basin again, Hawke didn't wring it out before bringing it to the bandages. "I'm wetting the bandages on your leg, Ianto, so that when I remove them I won't damage the area further." He nodded mutely as she wrung sections of the soaked rag over his leg, making sure not to just completely drench the wound. Once she was satisfied, she placed the rag back in the water and began slowly removing bandages. She flinched in sympathy every time the poor man winced or hissed in pain, but her hands were steady.

Once all the bandages were removed, Hawke began cleaning the area again. The blood still ran freely from his leg, however, so she finished cleaning quickly and set the rag aside and placed her hands over the leg. She closed her eyes, focused, and relaxed as her magic responded to her call. _The head wound is shallow, no internal damage. Good. Dislocated shoulder and a cracked rib, easily fixed. Tore through to the muscle in his leg. That must have been one hell of a tangle to do this kind of damage._ "The shoulder will have to be set after I close the leg wound. Keep it in the sling for a few days if you can." She ordered calmly before giving her magic direction, willing it to mend the damage.

When she opened her eye, drained, she sat back on her heels and nodded, approvingly, at the new, pinkish skin now covering the leg. "Well… that's good." Her tired body protested against one more moment of consciousness and she passed out, spent.

When she awoke, she noticed a few things. First, she was on a bed in a room that was neither the hold nor the room that had held Ianto. This one was bigger. And had a bed. With sheets. And pillows. Second, she noticed that she was dry, probably due to the fact that, third, she was wearing only her smallclothes.

_Right. Okay… _"Hello?"

"Serah Hawke. My apologies, I did not mean to wake you." Captain Verga stood, nervously, by the bed with his back to her. It seemed he had turned around quickly when she awoke.

"It's alright." She sat up, pulling the covers with her. "Where are my clothes?"

"Hanging to dry by the window," he gestured towards the far wall where her clothes were indeed hanging up in front of the window, "we thought it was best to remove them so that you wouldn't catch a chill. I was bringing you a fresh set." He set a folded set of clothes at the foot of the bed.

"Who's we?"

"Your friend, the redhead, Mistress Aveline. "

Hawke gathered the clothes and looked for a shirt. She was a little dismayed to find a shift and dress instead of pants and shirt, but she wasn't going to complain. She quickly wriggled into the garments and sat at the edge of the bed. "I am decent, Captain."

He turned around thankfully and continued explaining, "When you collapsed I brought you here and went to the hold to bring one of your companions to help. Mistress Aveline was the only one awake. She said not to disturb the others and came to lend her assistance."

"Where is she now?"

"Fetching supper. You've been resting for almost five hours."

She cringed. "My mother must be frantic, I apologize."

"It is no trouble. Mistress Aveline has talked with your family, though I am not aware of what she told them, they seemed reassured."

"That's good." Hawke glanced down at the dress she was wearing then back up at the Captain. "Do you normally keep women's clothing around?"

"No, Serah. The dress is a donation from a grateful mother."

"The one I helped earlier?"

"Yes Serah. She says that it is the least she could do for her son's rescuer."

"Please, drop the Serah. Just Hawke, will be fine."

Verga nodded and pulled the chair from the nearby table and sat down upon it next to the bed. "Hawke, it is. Are you feeling well? I admit I was worried my favor had caused you some damage."

"I will be fine. I just drained myself; two complex healings in a short time span. I will recover with rest. A few days at most."

"Then please, I insist you remain here. The hold is not a restful place and I owe you a debt."

"That isn't—"

"I believe it is necessary. You saved my brother's life. Offering you a comfortable bed to recuperate in is the very least I could do."

Hawke swallowed her protest and simply nodded. "Thank you."

"Truly, Hawke, it is I who should be thanking you."

She nodded shyly and lay back down on the bed. "Since I am stealing your quarters, where are you going to sleep?" She pondered.

He chuckled. "I will be on deck, underneath the stars."

There was a knock at the door and Aveline entered with a tray of food. "Glad to see you awake, Hawke."

"You know me, I simply must have my beauty sleep." Hawke teased lightly. She felt a sharp pain in her chest when she looked at the tray in Aveline's hands. Whenever she would be bedridden, Bethany was always the one to bring her meals. He sister was the better healer, too. _If only I'd been more like her… I might have saved her._

Captain Verga seemed to sense a change in the mood of the room. He stood, made polite farewells, and left. Aveline took the vacated chair and set the tray next to Hawke on the bed. "Thank you, Aveline." She murmured quietly, glancing sadly at the tray.

"Hawke, no one is here but me. You don't have to be strong."

She felt the sting of unshed tears in her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. "Whenever one of us was sick, Bethany was always the one to bring a tray of food. I just… wasn't ready for that reminder. I'm sorry." She schooled her features, stopped herself from crying, and shook her head to clear it a little. Once that was done, she pulled the tray closer and began to eat.

"What was she like?"

"Brilliant. Like a ray of sunshine. She was always so kind, caring towards others; slow to anger. She and I would spend hours together studying, trading knowledge. I taught her how to meditate, she taught me how to heal. She was an amazing healer, better than Father, even."

"She seems to have taught you well. From what I hear, you're quite the healer yourself." Aveline smiled.

Hawke shook her head. "Not good enough. I couldn't save her."

"No amount of healing can bring back the dead, Hawke. It wasn't your fault."

"You'll excuse me if I disagree. I should have done more. Stopped her from drawing the ogre's attention or knocked her out of the way. _Something_."

"What's done is done. You cannot change it by beating yourself up. All you can do is try to not let it happen again."

"What do you mean?"

"Take today for example. You saved the lives of two people today. That's two families that won't have to go through the loss you're going through now. I think that's a worthy goal; something to honor her memory by."

Hawke looked at her friend and a single tear slipped past her wall. "Thank you." She said hoarsely, her throat was too tight to say anything else.

Aveline patted Hawke's knee companionably and then sat back in her chair, relaxing, allowing Hawke the time she needed to get back under control. "I told Leandra and Carver what happened on the docks and a few hours ago. Your mother was upset at first and wanted to see you, but I told her you were resting and that if she wanted to see you, she could come up tomorrow."

Hawke sighed. "I just know she's going to give me a lecture about being cautious and such. Maybe I can feign sleep when she shows up."

"Carver seemed more upset that you would foolishly risk attracting Templar attention than whether or not you were all right."

"That's Carver. Raised to be ever watchful for the Templars in case we needed to run and hide. He was Bethany and my unofficial bodyguard; something I think he's resentful of. Hard to tell with Carver, though. He could just be an ass."

Aveline chuckled along with Hawke and the two slipped into easy conversation, swapping childhood stories and other fond memories for the next several hours. Sometimes, when either Wesley or Bethany was mentioned the two would allow a few tears to fall. It was healthy and it felt good to not have to be so strong for a few moments. Finally, both Hawke and Aveline were yawning too much to talk anymore. Aveline bid her goodnight and left after making sure Hawke was settled for sleep.

Hawke drifted off as the sound of the sea lulled her to the Fade.


	4. Fading

_**Author's Note**__: Apologies about any confusion concerning my recent activities! I realized that neither of my first two chapters had an author's note or disclaimer, so I added one as a whole new chapter to clear things up. I should be better about remembering to put it at the beginning of each chapter from now on. Thank you to the people who have already favorited! It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside :3_

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

A knock at the door roused her from sleep sometime in the morning. Beyond that it was daylight, which could only be seen because of the window in the room, Hawke didn't know what time it was, but she did know that she was very tired. "Come in." She said reluctantly.

Vergas entered with a waterskin and passed it to a grateful Hawke. She was aware that her shoulder-length hair was unseemly tangled and messy, but she did not care. Sleep would claim her again soon enough.

Vergas sat in the chair, seemingly trying to find something to say. Hawke spared him by asking, "How is Ianto?"

"He is well. I'm making him keep that arm in a sling for now, but other than that she seems no worse for wear."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"As am I Hawke. Thank you, again."

"That reminds me… Your ship: _The Hawk's Flight_. Where did you get the name? I was not aware that hawks were big water birds."

Vergas grinned at her interest, or perhaps at the coincidence of names, either way he answered, "They are not, in fact. The name comes from when Ianto and I were lads. We were on our way back from the Free Marches when a storm wrecked the ship we were on. It was quick, savage. Not many survived the initial devastation, but Ianto and I had managed to find a lifeboat that was still floating. We climbed aboard and thanked the Maker we were still alive.

"That's when the fog settled over the area.

"The area around here is not the safest to traverse even when you have a crew of experienced sailors. The rocks can be sailed around when you can see what you're doing, but the fog obscured everything. We weren't even sure how close to the harbor we were.

"On the second day of this, while I was on watch, a hawk landed on the seat in front of me. My curiosity was piqued, overriding any caution I should have had. I leant cautiously closer and the bird still didn't fly away. It just sat there, staring at me. I stared back. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe it was that I was exhausted, but I could swear I saw… intelligence in its gaze."

He paused in his tale, recalling how eerie it had been. Hawke prodded curiously, "What did you do?"

"Oh, I did what any sane person would, of course." He smirked. "I asked it for help."

"Did it respond?" Hawke teased.

"As a matter of fact, it did. Sort of. It flew off, but before it did it looked like it had nodded. Anyway, it flew to the bow and… did something. I admit it was an odd sight, I'm not rightly sure I could describe _what_ it did, but after it had finished, the hawk spoke."

"A shapechanger, maybe?" Hawke was surprised. _An apostate most likely. No wonder he doesn't seem to mind my magic, if an apostate helped him before._

"Indeed. He beckoned me over and told me that it was not in his power to bring the wind, but that he could guide us through the water to harbor. All we had to do was follow. I woke Ianto, told him to follow the hawk. He looked at me like I was crazy, but he was too used to following my orders to disobey. We made it to harbor, kissed dry land, and when I looked for the hawk, to thank it, it was already gone."

"You were very lucky."

"Don't I know it. I would have liked to thank the mage for helping."

"Is that why you seem unconcerned by my apostate status?" Hawke asked.

"It is a reason, yes, but not the only one."

Before Hawke could ask what other reasons he had, the door burst open and a disheveled sailor quickly saluted and declared, "Captain, we need you on deck, Ser."

Vergas frowned, "What is it Sailor?"

"There's some…" he glanced awkwardly towards Hawke, "unrest, Captain."

_Oh, Maker, I bet 100 sovereigns this has to do with my magic._ Hawke sank a little in the bed, trying to become smaller, unnoticeable.

Vergas stood and made his was to the door. He threw an apologetic look to Hawke before dparting. Through the door she heard his remark to the sailor, "Now what _exactly_ is going on?"

The two were already out of earshot for the sailor's reply, however, so Hawke just lay back and waited. Still recovering from exerting herself, Hawke slipped into sleep without meaning to.

_The Fade was always a strange place. She tried to avoid accidentally falling asleep because it meant she would have less control within the Fade. When she found herself in a small clearing with a clear pond at its center, Hawke relaxed a little. This was her meditative refuge. Whenever she forged into the world of dream outside of sleep, she brought herself here. It was good that she appeared in a place she knew._

Something is different. _She noticed quickly. Looking around, Hawke saw nothing immediately out of place. _Yet, something _is_ different. I can feel it.

_Standing from her seated position, Hawke walked barefooted the perimeter of the clearing. Still finding nothing, she frowned and sat on the rock at the edge of the pool of water. She slipped her feet into the cold wetness and continued to look around._

_That's when she noticed it. She was being watched. There was no one in the open, so she drew he gaze to the trees themselves. When she brought her eyes along a spot almost on the other side of the clearing, the _thing_ that watched stilled. She could feel it in the tension of the clearing._

_Not taking her eyes off the spot, she withdrew her feet from the water and walked over to the trees. "Hello?"_ _She kept her voice soft and gentle, so as not to startle whatever it was. She moved forward slowly as she neared the tree line. She leaned against one of the old oaks and looked into the forest. There, not too far from the clearing was a white wolf._

_Startled at first, she almost drew away, but then she noticed that he was caught in a trap; a net held him down. He continued to look at her, though he tried not to move. When she tore her eyes away from the net and to his own, she was surprised to see that they were not yellow. They were green._

_When she reached out to him he growled. She hesitated. "Do you want out?" She asked._

_He stopped growling suddenly, seemingly surprised. Taking that as a good sign, she reached out again. His growling resumed, however, so she withdrew. As she withdrew this time, movement on the other side of the wolf caught her eye. Beings of rage began to swarm the trapped wolf. _

"_No!" Unthinking, she swept her hand willing the demons to stop. Ice sprang from the ground and destroyed the oncoming threat. _What? Was that Cone of Cold? _She looked surprised at her own hand. _

_A whine from the wolf brought her back to the trapped animal. She reached for the net, to pull it off, but more demons gathered. She called forth lightning as she had against the hurlocks that harassed them on the way out of Lothering and banished them. _

_Frantically, she began tugging at the net trying to get it off the wolf before more demons could come._

"_Hawke." The voice made her jump. She looked at the wolf, wondering if that deep, gravelly voice had come from him._

_He stared at her with those green eyes…_

"Hawke?"

She sat bolt upright and then really wished she hadn't as the room began to spin. She put a hand to her head and the other on the bed to steady herself. She groaned, "That was dumb."

"Hawke, are you alright?" Aveline stood by the head of the bed and glanced at her, concern on her features.

"Mph." Was her intelligent reply.

"I told you not to wake her." Aveline turned her gaze to Vergas, who was standing by the door.

"I apologize Mistress Aveline. It was not my intention." He said.

"What's going on?" Hawke mumbled. _What was that dream… I can't remember…_

"There have been complaints," Aveline began bluntly. "It got out, somehow, that one of the refugees, you, is a mage. Some of the other refugees are rather upset that 'a cursed abomination of nature' was hiding in their midst."

Hawke groaned. "No doubt here to corrupt their minds and sacrifice their virgins."

Vergas chuckled. "Something like that."

Aveline did not look amused. "It apparently doesn't matter to any of them that you have saved the lives of two people on board; they are threatening violence to your person should they see you in the hold again."

"Really?" Hawke scoffed. _That seems a bit extreme. Wait… _"What about Mother and Carver?"

"They have, at this point, made no move against your family. We aren't even sure they know you _have_ any." Vergas answered.

"And you Aveline?"

"No open aggression, but I can take care of myself."

"So, what's the plan?"

"You remain here for the remainder of the journey." Hawke was about to protest, but Vergas raised his hand to silence her. "I will not ask one of my crew to vacate their bed and there are no spare rooms. Truly, I do not mind sleeping on the deck."

Hawke frowned but did not protest further. "If you insist Captain."

"In addition," Aveline started, "it seems that a group of refugees, many from the same group that have an issue with you, are saying that it is unfair for only a few to be allowed out of the hold."

"Oh," Hawke frowned deeper, "I hadn't thought of that."

"To keep everyone calm, Mistress Aveline agreed to cease visits. Your family will also be forbidden from leaving the hold to visit you."

"Aveline?" Hawke suddenly disliked this idea a _lot_. Being alone was _not_ okay with her.

"It serves a dual purpose Hawke." Aveline stated calmly. "We appease the very reasonable concern of unfair treatment, and with any luck, by the end of the journey they will have forgotten that you were ever here. If myself or Leandra kept coming and going it would be a constant reminder that you were still aboard."

Hawke drooped, defeated. Aveline was right. There were dangers enough from the Templars in Kirkwall without a vengeful refugee running to rat her out fresh off the boat.

She sighed, resigned, as a thought entered her head. "Tell them I'm dead. You threw me overboard or something. I won't be there to contradict you, and the last thing I need is someone warning the Templars."

Aveline thought it over and Captain Vergas seemed to defer to her judgment in this matter. "We'd have to tell Leandra and Carver. They've been through enough without thinking that you were brutally cast overboard."

"Less of a shock when I rejoin them in Kirkwall, too."

"Are you sure about this?" Captain Vergas asked.

"It is a good idea." Aveline assented.

"Not to mention the unrest it'll save you when they realize I'm living in the lap of comparative luxury." Hawke added.

Vergas paled at the mere thought of _more_ unrest. "Very well."

"So, this is goodbye for a while, Hawke." Aveline sat down on the bed next to her friend. "Don't tax yourself. Rest. You'll need your strength for Kirkwall."

"Thank you, Aveline. Look after them for me? Carver is a handful, but I think he respects you more than he ever did me."

"I'll keep them safe." She promised.

The two clasp forearms and Aveline left without another word. She closed the door behind her and Hawke felt more and more lonely with every retreating boot step.

"I'm sorry it turned out like this."

"I am an apostate. Prejudice is not unfamiliar to me." Hawke sighed.

"That does not make it right." He stated firmly. Hawke gave him a small smile in return and he continued, "I'm afraid I must take my leave; there are a few things I must discuss with the crew."

"Of course. I am sorry for the trouble my presence has brought you."

"It is not you that I regret bringing on board, Hawke." He saluted her casually on his way out the door.

Alone again, Hawke tried to remember what the dream had been. _Not normal, that's for sure._ Malcolm, her father, had always warned her and Bethany to pay attention to dreams. They were not limited to idle fancies of the subconscious, not for mages. With a stronger connection to the Fade, mages could sometimes experience visions—images and metaphors for important happenings. They were not common, but they were not unheard of.

She tried to pull at the strings of memory, but the more she tried, the faster they slipped away. Frustrated, Hawke shook her head and relaxed. Fighting for the memory would not be useful. She would remember it eventually, or she would not. Either way, there was nothing she could do about it now.

Sleep returned quickly.


	5. One Good Thing

_**Author's Note**__: __ short chapter is short. Apologies, but the next section didn't really have anywhere I could break it up. Hope you enjoy anyway! Once again thank you to all who favorite and such, it makes me smile :D _

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

Aveline returned to the hold and went to Carver and Leandra. She sat down next to Hawke's mother and leaned in so as not to be overheard. "We seem to have come up with a solution."

"Thank the Maker." Leandra whispered.

"Captain Vergas is going to come in soon and inform everyone that the apostate is dead." Leandra gasped, but Aveline placed a hand on her arm. "It is not true, Mistress. Your daughter is fine, if still recovering. But it is important that you both act as if you believe it."

"If she can't come down here, where will she be?" Carver demanded, though he did lower his voice.

"She is still recovering in the captain's quarters."

"You mean she gets to lounge in luxury while we're stuck in this pit?"

"Carver!" Leandra scolded.

"Do not be a petulant child, Carver. Your sister is even less thrilled about this than you are, but she does not want an incident to break out. Neither should you." Aveline used her officer tone and Carver flinched.

"Very well, Aveline. Thank you for your help." Leandra leaned again Carver again as Captain Vergas lowered himself into the hold.

The news that the apostate had died sent a murmur through the crowd. Most, Aveline observed, were satisfied or even jovial. There were very few people who seemed upset, though one woman clutched her young son to her chest and wept openly.

After the captain had left and the refugees began whispering and gossiping again, Aveline made her way over to the crying woman. She sat and asked quietly, "You are the one she helped?"

The woman nodded, "My boy would have died. She did not deserve her fate."

"No, she did not." Aveline would have liked to offer the grieving woman comfort, but the more people who knew that Hawke lived, the more likely the plan would fail.

"I did not even know her name."

"It was Temperance." Leandra had joined them and now knelt by the other woman.

Aveline left the two women to talk and went back to sit by Carver. Both remained silent.

Hawke threw the blankets off, frustrated and bored. It had been two days since Aveline had returned to the hold and she was going insane! She needed to get up and move to stop the feeling of utter loneliness. Someone would come by three times a day to bring her meals, but they would drop it off and then leave. Captain Vergas had not visited her, Aveline was forbidden, and Hawke _craved_ company. She _hated_ being alone.

She swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor. The wood was smooth beneath her bare feet, if a little cold, so she stood hesitantly, ignoring the trail of furniture she normally used to support herself on her way to the privy. She would do this on her own. Shaky at first, Hawke concentrated on maintaining her balance and soon stood without too much fear of falling down. _Now, walk._ She commanded herself.

She raised one foot and took a step forward. Her traitorous legs gave under this action and she fell awkwardly onto the floor. "Andraste's greasy, fen-sucked tits!" She cursed as she landed on her back. She slapped the floor to add emphasis.

"That was colorful." She craned her neck to look at the source of the voice. Vergas stood in the doorway. She hadn't heard him enter.

She blushed. "Captain."

Vergas sighed, "I'm not your captain Hawke. Vergas, or Dagan even, will be fine."

"Dagan? That's your first name?" She asked and blushed again when she realized what a stupid question in was.

"It is." He said simply. He removed himself from the doorway and stood over her, arms crossed. "Why are you on the floor?"

"Well, it just looked so inviting." She answered glibly. When he only stared at her in response she sighed and confessed, "My legs don't want to support my weight yet."

"You said it would be days before you would be able to walk on your own."

"It's _been_ days!" She said irritably.

He sighed and knelt, scooping her up off the floor and placing her gently on the bed. He made it look effortless, though Hawke was not a tiny woman. "You should not have tried without assistance. You could have injured yourself."

"Who was I supposed to ask for help? I haven't seen anyone for more than a minute in two days." Hawke snapped, then looked away, ashamed.

He was quiet for a moment. He reached out and turned her head gently to face him. "Hawke, I apologize. I would not wish such isolation; I should have been by before now."

"It's alright. You're no doubt busy running the ship. I spoke harshly, I apologize."

"No need." He stood up from the bed and reached a hand out to her. "Let me make it up to you."

She eyed him cautiously, but accepted his hand. He helped her out of the bed and offered his support until she stood on her own.

"I'll keep you from falling." He offered his arm as gentleman might to a lady.

"Thank you." She took his arm and used him to support herself as he led her to the other side of the room.

"Have you ever been on a ship before?" He asked.

"No," she confessed, "we didn't live near the coast."

"Then you have been deprived of this." He moved her hanging clothes aside and brought her to face the window.

The vastness of the ocean lay before her, unmarred by any landmasses or even other ships. The world was blue as far as the eye could see, the only other color being the sun as it made its slow journey across the open sky. Hawke watched in awe as the waves spread out from the path of the ship and collided and danced with the natural waves of the water. It was almost hypnotic.

"Watch closely." He whispered in her ear, his hot breath tickling her neck, and pointed to an area to the left.

Hawke looked eagerly to see what he did. For a few moments she wondered if she had missed it, but then, suddenly, a spout of water burst forth from the waves, followed by two more. "What—?" Before she could ask, however, a slender, grey body flew up out of the water and crashed back in.

She watched, jaw open, as more of the creatures broke the waters surface, either with their bodies or delicate tails. She noted that the underside of the animals seemed lighter in color, the underside of the long fins and tails were almost white.

"They're dolphins." Vergas told her. "They keep to the coasts mostly, but they'll follow a ship out farther occasionally. They've been known to save shipwrecked sailors."

The animals were not far away from the ship, and it was clear that there were many of them following behind _The Hawk's Flight_.

"Why do they do that—break the surface, I mean?" She could not tear her eyes off the water.

"They breath air, like we do." He told her. "They have to come up every so often or they drown."

"They're beautiful."

He allowed her silence to just watch the breaching dolphins, content to look over her shoulder, until they had passed. When no dolphins had come up for several minutes, Hawke turned around and looked up at him. "Thank you." She said placing a hand on his chest to steady herself.

He took her hand and graced her fingers with a light kiss. "You're most welcome."

He guided her back to the bed and let her sprawl onto it, taking the chair nearby. She closed her eyes to keep the mental image of the dolphins in her head as a smile tugged at her lips. After a moment she turned her head and looked at Vergas. "Can I see them from Kirkwall?"

He nodded. "The Wounded Coast is not far from the city and offers a good view of the Waking Sea. During the right time of year, you can watch them for hours."

"That's good. At least there's one thing to look forward to."

"If you don't like Kirkwall, why are you going? There are other cities in the Free Marches."

"We have family in Kirkwall—my mother's brother—and an estate. Mother was nobility before she decided to run away to Ferelden with my apostate father."

"You're lucky, then. Not everyone is going to find a place to settle." He said, regret coloring his voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I can take them away from the Blight, but refugees have been fleeing Ferelden for a while now. There's only so much room."

"Will they turn people away?"

"One city-state cannot hold an entire country."

"That… is not a pleasant thought." Hawke cringed. "I had not considered what we would do if they didn't let us into the city."

Vergas placed a comforting hand on Hawke's. "I'm sure you will be fine. Like you said, there is an estate waiting for you."

She squeezed his hand as a thank you. "If only it could be that easy."

Vergas stayed and talked with Hawke about what he knew of the Free Marches—and Kirkwall specifically—for another hour before his duty to the ship called him away. He promised to return when it was time for dinner and casually saluted as he left, closing the door behind him.

Hawke allowed herself to drift off as she thought fondly of the dolphins.

True to his word, Vergas returned a few hours later with a tray in his hands. He set the tray on the table and helped Hawke to a chair. They two ate in comfortable silence, picking up the conversation only after both had finished.

"Have you ever been to Sundermount?" Hawke asked, reminded of the amulet around her neck.

"I haven't, actually. It's not too far outside of Kirkwall, but it isn't exactly safe."

"Why?"

"Well, for one, it's untamed. There are no settlements on the mountain, so there are any number of wild things prowling the area, the Dalish included."

"I've never met the Dalish; are they truly so dangerous?"

"Some. They hold a mighty prejudice against humans. Not completely without reason, I suppose, but they are as likely to kill you on sight as speak to you." He informed her. Seeing her worried look he asked, "Did you have plans to go to Sundermount?"

"It is on my to-do list." She hedged.

"Be cautious and courteous if you do run into them. You may not, they travel about quite often."

"Somehow, I don't think I'll be that lucky." She shook her head, smirking.

"Why not just avoid the mountain?"

"I cannot." He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Suffice to say, I have a debt that requires me to venture there."

"Very well, be mysterious and cryptic." He teased.

"I wouldn't be a very good mage if I wasn't at least a _little_ mysterious and cryptic, now would I."

His short bark of laughter was her reward for her joke. "Indeed, I suppose not."


	6. Calm Before the Storm

_**Author's Note**__: Ok, this one is kind of long to make up for the short one I posted last time. Thank you so much to all my readers for reading, especially to those who favorite and add this story to your alerts and a very big thanks for my first reviewer! Awesome!_

_**Warning**__: Also, please note that the rating has just been bumped up to Mature, as I said it eventually would. This is due to the smut (gasp!) in this chapter! If you do not wish to read the sexual content, it is at the end of the chapter, you may skip it if you wish._

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

After that night, Vergas's visits became a nightly ritual. He would bring her dinner and the two would talk late into the night, eventually adding short walks around the cabin to rebuild Hawke's strength. At the end of the night he would bid her goodnight with a casual salute and a grin and leave to sleep on the deck.

While she waited for dinner, Hawke would occupy her time with meditation. As her father had taught her, _through meditation one can deepen one's reserves, expand one's knowledge, and strengthen one's mind_. He had instilled the art in her mind at a young age and she found it was also a good way to ease her worries, of which she had many. Some of the things Vergas had told her of Kirkwall made her nervous; the city was by no means safe, though Hightown was supposed to be the safest of the three districts.

She pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind and began meditating. As she slipped into the familiar motions, she recalled her early days in Ferelden.

"_You must concentrate, Tempy!" Her father insisted. She had let her mind wander again. Meditation was so _boring_ though! How was she supposed to focus when all she did was sit there? Every sound pulled her, every smell enticed her, every itch demanded attention! She could not still her mind with so many distractions._

"_Papa," she whined, "I can't! My mind wanders, it won't focus." A child of twelve, she was not new to her gift. Her lack of focus over the past two years had caused the family to uproot and move three times, fleeing from Templars. Bethany, only nine, had just started showing signs of magic and Malcolm, their father, redoubled his efforts to teach the two to meditate. _

"_Tempy, magic is about control. If you cannot control it, _it_ will control you." Her father reminded her._

_She fought back the tears stinging her eyes. She hated it when Father rebuked her. She knew he was right, and she knew it was her fault they had to flee to Lothering. She hung her head, defeated. "I can't." She sniffed._

_Malcolm sighed. He knelt down to look his daughter in the eye. "You _must_!" He repeated apologetically._

"_Why doesn't Carver have to sit still?" Bethany asked; she was no better at meditation than Temperance. "He says that he moves around to clear his head, like you told us to. Why can't we do what Carver does?"_

"_Your brother isn't a mage." Leandra commented from the garden. She was weeding while the girls practiced nearby. Temperance thought it was secretly so she could save her plants if either of them set the garden on fire by accident. Again._

"_But it works for him!" Temperance insisted. "Why wouldn't it work for us?"_

_Two pairs of eager eyes looked up at Malcolm. Their natures were wild, unaccustomed to staying still. He considered it. Meditation was meditation. If it focused their minds, the end result was the same. "We could try it." He acquiesced after giving it some thought._

_Leandra sighed. "Kindly try it _away_ from the house, if you don't mind. The last thing we need is another burning roof."_

_Temperance hung her head shamefully._

_Malcolm quickly gathered his magelets—his affectionate term for his young mages—and staff and herded them away from the house. "Bethany, run and get Carver won't you?" She bobbed her head, black locks bouncing with her excitement, and ran into the house. Once she was inside, Malcolm turned to his eldest and cautioned, "This could be dangerous, Tempy."_

"_Why?"_

"_You lean heavily towards the primal and elemental schools of magic; if you loose control you could do a lot of damage." Malcolm explained not unkindly. "You've been lucky these past two years, only causing property damage, but if you do not learn to focus the next thing you set on fire may be some_one_, not just some_thing_. Do I make myself clear?"_

_Temperance nodded solemnly. "I understand, Papa."_

_Bethany and Carver approached, then, and Malcolm supervised as Carver showed the girls the basic drills he'd been learning. This training continued daily, and slowly Malcolm noticed improvement. The magic flares were less frequent and both girls were gaining control over their magic. Six months into the trainings, while Malcolm and Leandra watched their children go through the drills a warrior needed for training, Leandra made an observation, "Should they be learning how to move a sword when they will never lift one? You use a staff, won't they?"_

_She was right, of course. The staff was another key to focusing magic. As he pondered this, his wife made another comment, "If it is the movement they use, why not something… more feminine? Like dance?"_

Hawke began the stretching she usually did every morning. It was a habit, now, after so many years, but she had held off until she felt stable on her feet to pick it up again—about a week ago.

Her mother had managed to convince her father that a warrior's training would not be what they needed, and she had been right. Hawke and Bethany would never pick up a sword and wield it like Carver did.

From that day on, it had been the movement of dance that focused the girls' minds. Hawke had been a little surprised to find similarities between the two and picked it up easily. What they did in meditation was a slowed down exaggerated version of what would normally be set to music, but it worked to focus the mind and that was the point. In later years, she melded the two routines, finding that they worked well together and she enjoyed the combination of grace and strength.

It was while she was doing one of these stretches—extending her legs as far out in front and back as they could go until they were horizontal and parallel to the floor—that the door to the cabin opened. Lunch was over, but it was still an hour or so before dinner, so she hadn't been expecting company. She was in a calm state, however, so she didn't jump. She looked calmly at the familiar face, trying to place it.

The young man blushed furiously and turned around quickly. "My apologies, Serah."

She smiled as she placed a name with the face. "It's alright Ianto; I'm just stretching."

"Yes, Serah." He did not turn around.

Sighing, slightly amused, Hawke got to her feet and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned she offered him a smile and said, "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. How are doing? Healing, I trust?"

"Yes Serah, thanks to you." He gave her a gracious nod.

"Was there something you wanted?"

"Captain requests your presence on deck, Serah." He informed her.

She nodded. "Lead he way." He led her out of the cabin and down the hallway past what she assumed to be crew quarters. "Ianto," she asked conversationally, "why do you call your brother Captain? Does he require such formality?"

He shook his head. "Not many of the crew on board know that he and I are related," he whispered. "He doesn't want to appear soft, I don't want to be given special treatment, and so we act how our ranks demand."

"I see."

They reached the deck then; Hawke stopped talking and let Ianto lead her to Vergas. He was at the bow, a spyglass to his eye. Ianto cleared his throat and reported, "The mage, as you requested, Captain."

He did not drop his spyglass as he replied, "Thank you Sailor, you're dismissed."

Ianto left to attend to other duties and Hawke stood next to Vergas, calmly waiting for him to tell her why he'd summoned her. She did not have to wait long; after a moment he handed the spyglass to her and pointed to the horizon.

Big, dark clouds stretched across the horizon, visible without the aid of the spyglass. Looking through it, however, showed a closer view of the raging turmoil the sea had become. She saw flashes of lightning arc between clouds, some even plummeted down to strike to ocean as rain came down in a drowning curtain. She tore her eyes away and handed the spyglass back to Vergas.

"We'll be in it by dinnertime." He told her gravely. "If it doesn't catch us first."

"Is there no way around it?"

"No." Hawke glanced around, noticing the hustle and bustle of the crew. "They are preparing for the storm."

Hawke turned her gaze back to her friend. "I assume you did not call me up here simply to scare me. Do you have a request?"

"Can you banish the storm?" He asked bluntly.

"I am a mage, Dagan, not the Maker." She shook her head sadly. "I cannot control the weather."

He nodded. "Worth a shot." He motioned and a sailor was by his side. He handed the man the spyglass and walked Hawke back to the Captain's quarters.

He did not stay long, moving to leave once she was seated on the bed. "Dagan," she stopped him with his name, "how long will the storm last?"

"If we're lucky?" He shrugged. "Just the one night."

She paled. "And if we're unlucky?"

"If the storm is bad enough, she could turn us about until we've lost our bearings. We'd have to wait for the storm to pass, possibly days, before we could find our course again. And that's _if_ the ship doesn't break apart first."

"How likely is that?" Hawke asked, wide eyed.

"We'll know in a few hours." He left.

Hawke decided she did not like sailing.

The next hour was tense. Hawke kept pacing worried. She was so deep in thought that when the door opened she jumped. It was Vergas, dripping wet, but carrying dinner.

"What's the situation?" She grabbed a spare blanket and threw it around his shoulders.

"The storm is moving quickly. It'll be rough, but it should only last the night." He set her tray down on the table and took a chair, wrapping the blanket around himself as he did so.

"That's good, I suppose." The ship lurched suddenly; Hawke nearly fell down.

"It could be much worse."

She sat down at the table. "What about the people in the hold?"

"We have an oiled tarp tied across the opening so it won't flood." His smirk had returned. "Don't worry, Hawke, we've done this before."

She relaxed and dove into her food before the tossing of the ship could throw it to the ground. Worrying built up an appetite. When she was finished, she waited politely for Vergas to push his plate away before speaking. They spent the next few hours discussing Vergas's adventures on the seas. He told her of all the places he'd been and what he liked and disliked about all of them; if he had any funny stories about a particular country, he shared them first. In exchange, Hawke shared amusing magic mishaps, including when she'd set her mother's garden on fire.

Through it all, the storm raged.

"How much of the furniture is nailed down?" She asked, noticing that the almost violent rocking hadn't shifted much in the room.

"Anything that can be; tables, beds, desks, some of the chairs."

"Ah good, so I don't have to worry about being flung about in my sleep." She grinned.

He nodded in reply. "Probably not the most comfortable night's sleep you'll ever get, but at least it'll be the last one on the ship."

"What?"

"We'll reach Kirkwall tomorrow." He informed her.

"Oh." _Right, Kirkwall. _

"It's quite the sight, you should come up on deck tomorrow to see it. Kirkwall makes… an interesting first impression." He stood, folding the blanket and placing it on the back of the chair, and made his way to the door. "Well, I suppose I should wish you a good night, Hawke. It has been a pleasure."

She stood when he did. "Where are you going?"

"It is late—"

"It's also pouring rain. You can't sleep on deck tonight, not during this storm."

"I will not commandeer someone else's—"

"Stay here." _What did I just say? Maker, help me…_

He paused, staring at her.

_Too late to take it back now, and it makes much more sense for him to stay here, in his own quarters, than out in _that. _Not like I'm suggesting anything… happen, just that he stay where it's dry._ "You know full well that you risk your health sleeping in the rain. These are your quarters, sleep here."

He hesitated a moment, but eventually shrugged. "I suppose I could put a pallet on the floor. Thank you."

She nodded and began looking about for suitable accommodations. He seemed to know where to find what he needed however and quickly began gathering blankets and a bedroll.

"You should take the bed." She said as she looked for a place to fit the pallet.

"Nonsense."

"It is your bed."

"These are also my blankets and bedroll." He smirked. The only space large enough was the area in front of the bed and Vergas began laying out the bedroll.

Instinct to help took over and she crouched down on the balls of her feet to assist laying blankets. "I just feel—" The ship pitched, throwing Hawke off balance. She hurtled into him with the motion of the ship and knocked him off balance as well. When they stopped moving, Hawke had both hands braced against his chest, the wooden floor dug into her knees as she straddled his waist; his hands held firmly to her waist, supporting her. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she finished "—awkward. Taking your bed, I mean."

He removed one of his hands from her waist and gently brushed the rebellious lock behind her ear, grazing his thumb softly across her cheek as he did so. _Maker's breath! I'm _blushing_! _Hawke sat up, a shy smile on her face, though she did not remove herself from his lap. He sat up with her, one hand still on her waist.

"I would not wish to make you feel awkward." His voice was a soft, low whisper.

"Do you propose a compromise, then?" She felt butterflies gather in her gut, but her voice betrayed none of her nerves.

His free hand went again to her face, stroking her lips with the pad of his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut as warmth spread from his touch. He replaced his thumb with a gentle kiss as his hand moved to cradle the back of her head.

He broke the kiss but did not move away. His breath was pleasantly warm as he spoke; "I suppose we could share it, if you'd like."

_He's giving me a way out._ She realized. But he'd given her a taste, and she wanted more. She conveyed her response by running her hands up his well-toned arms and shoulders. They finished their explorative journey with one lightly fisted in his hair, the other softly tracing the cartilage of his ear. At his please shudder she smiled and whispered, "I find your terms agreeable."

He kissed her again, hungrily. His tongue slid teasingly across her bottom lip and she opened her mouth in a small gasp. His tongue shot in and she enjoyed the sensation of his warmth and taste as he caressed and dueled.

He broke the kiss again, but this time he pulled her head to the side and started tracing her jaw line with sweet, tasting kisses. He moved to her neck and repeated the action, adding small nips where her neck met her shoulder.

She moaned quietly and he slipped the hand on her waist up, under her tunic. He began caressing her soft skin as he moved his hand to the small of her back, fingertips just barely touching. The new tingles of pleasure had her squirming under his feather-light touch as they traveled up her spine and down to her loins.

Goosebumps lit her flesh has his hand followed the tingling up her back. When he reached the clasp that held her breast band together she received no more warning than the warmth and pressure of his large palm before the undergarment was undone. He removed it completely as his kisses returned to her lips.

She moaned again as his wandering hand moved to cup her breast. He squeezed then allowed his thumb to lightly trace her stiffed nipple. The action sent another wave of pulses down and she noticed a heat building with each pulse.

The hand that was cradling her neck moved down to her waist and then up under her tunic. Soon he was lifting it off her completely, breaking the kiss only when the fabric passed between them. He leaned back a little and seemed to be admiring the view, though Hawke was feeling a little exposed.

She'd never done this before.

Before she could tell him this, he moved. Taking one hand to cup her breast and tease the nipple, he placed the other on the small of her back again, tracing small circles that were doing big things to her arousal. When his mouth took her other nipple, the warmth turned into a small fire that grew with every sweep of his tongue. When he bit lightly she gasped and arched her back. He moved to her other breast and started again, teasing with his tongue, suckling, and then biting lightly.

He moved back up to her mouth and kissed her, demanding entry with his tongue. She gave it and he took it, becoming less gentle with his desire. A desire, Hawke noticed, that was evident in his pants. His hardness was pressed against her fire as he used his hands to grind her hips into his.

When his kisses moved to the hallow of her throat she gasped out, "Dagan…"

As if his name had awoken in him some realization, Hawke quickly found herself being placed on the bed. She stretched out her legs, knees a little sore from being on the floor for so long. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. He quickly removed his tunic and tossed it to the floor. Once it was out of his hands he began unlacing her leggings, sliding them off as soon as they were loose enough.

She propped herself up on her elbows when his hands did not immediately return. She was awarded the sight of him loosening the ties of his own breeches, slipping them off as soon as he could. The sight of his erection made her breath catch in her throat.

She looked up at his smoldering eyes and he lowered himself over her, pushing her legs further apart with his own. He had her mouth, again, before she could speak, the pressure of his body making her lay back down.

One hand began pushing down her smallclothes while the other supported his weight so that most of it wouldn't be on her. When she didn't move her hips to assist with the removal of her smalls his mouth found her breast and nipped. She bucked and the fabric slipped off her hips and legs and on to the floor.

The hand that did the removing snaked up her thigh, sending more fire to her center. When his fingers brushed lightly through the fine hairs, even the smallest move, the lightest touch had her writhing. When he finally stopped teasing and slipped a finger between her swollen labia to stroke her wetness, she clamped down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out in pleasure.

His finger quickly found the super sensitive nub and slowly began to stroke up and down sending blots of lightning to add to the fire raging the area. When the strokes turned in to circles, Hawke's hips began moving along with the rhythm. Just before she felt as if she was going to plummet over the edge of some unseen cliff, his finger slipped down and into her folds. She moaned agreeably as he began to thrust gently with his hand.

When he withdrew is hand and began caressing her hips, she began to protest. He silenced her with a gentle kiss. When he pulled back and looked into her eyes she saw that the smoldering had lessened some. Then he spoke, "You didn't tell me you were a virgin."

She blushed. "I was going to, but I kept getting distracted."

He smiled and a bit more of the heat in his gaze returned. "Do you still want to do this?"

She nodded.

He positioned himself above her and she spread her legs a little further apart. She felt the tip of him teasing the sensitive area between her legs where his finger had just been. He slipped in just a fraction of an inch and made sure he had her gaze before cautioning, "I'm going to try to be gentle, but this is going to hurt a little."

"I know. I'm ready."

She leaned her head back as he pushed in a little more. She began to feel the stretch of him inside her and it was a little painful, but it also felt wonderful. He withdrew and pushed in just that little bit again and just a little bit further. He repeated this action several times until he was fully within. He paused, allowing her to adjust to the new feeling. When she moved her hips to encourage him he began thrusting, slowly at first, but rapidly gaining speed. Each drive pushed waves of fire up her body but they did not recede like the tide, instead they kept building, adding onto the one before.

His hand glided down her hip to her thigh and lifted her leg up until her knee rested over his shoulder. This brought a new level of heat to each plunge into her and she was quickly reaching the precipice.

As she flew over the edge of that cliff, she felt as weightless as if she'd truly jumped off a ledge. She felt her muscles convulse around him and felt as his length went rigid and pulsed with his own release, a soft cry escaping both their lips as they came down.

He rolled off her and exhaled deeply as he stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"We should get cleaned up if we're going to sleep in that bed." He held out a hand to her and guided her to the washbasin.

After a quick rinse the two stumbled back to the bed. Dagan removed the blanket that they had laid upon and replaced it with a clean one. He allowed her to climb in first and then followed. She placed her arm on his chest and leaned into him as she drifted off to a very contented sleep.


	7. Mistakes and Crossing Lines

_**Author's Note**__: Advanced apology for being slow. When I decided to start posting I had almost 30 pages in word. My most recent post marked page 33 and as much as I had written, thus far. So if I slow down in my posting it's because I have to write the next chapter before I can post it. I will try to keep it to an absolute minimum of once a week, hopefully closer to two or three times a week._

_As always, much love to my wonderful fans! I do a happy dance every time I get a favorite or alert. __ Reviews are welcome too!_

_**Warning**__: Violence!_

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

The next morning, Hawke was sore. She groaned and allowed a small wave of healing magic to roll through her, easing the ache. She turned her head to wish Dagan a good morning, but he was not beside her. She sat up, looking around the cabin, but he was not there.

"Dagan?"

No answer.

She frowned and got dressed, noticing that the pallet had been put away. She looked out the window at the grey, pre-dawn sky. It was early, very early. _When did he leave?_ She wondered confused and a little hurt. _He probably had duties to attend to._ She reasoned.

With time to kill, Hawke began to stretch in preparation for meditation. When she moved from stretches into the very basic meditation routines, Hawke focused on putting last night out of her mind. It would do no good to dwell on it until she talked to Dagan.

Hawke moved through the very basic to the very complicated meditation routines in the attempt to get last night out of her head. Hours slipped by, unbeknownst to Hawke. She did not usually do hours of meditation, but it felt good to immerse herself in something familiar, something that she did not have to question.

A knock on the door announced the arrival of breakfast. "Enter." She did not stop meditation. If she stopped, thoughts about last night would return.

The door opened and Ianto hastily placed the tray on the table as he skirted around Hawke, allowing plenty of room so he wouldn't get hit. "Do you always dance without music?"

She stopped, eyes snapping open. "Ianto," her breathing was heavy after the exercise, "is it breakfast already?"

"It is, Serah. I apologize, I did not mean to disturb you."

"You didn't. Don't worry, I should have stopped a while ago." While it was not Dagan, Hawke did not find Ianto's company disagreeable. She shoved her mild annoyance aside and gestured to the table. "Will you join me?"

He seemed to hesitate, thinking, before he sat at the table. She smiled warmly at him and pulled the other chair over so that she could sit at the table as well. "I'm sorry, Ianto, what was the question you asked?"

"I just wondered if you always danced without music. Some of the other sailors commented that you would be dancing when they brought you food; I admit I was curious to see it myself."

"Oh?" She smiled again when he blushed. _He can't be much older than Carver_, she thought thoughtfully. _Bethany would have been quite taken with him._ She decided to answer his question when he did not comment further. "I was meditating."

"Meditating? That didn't look like meditation."

"I suppose sitting quietly like a statue works for most people, but I never could manage to stay awake that way. The routines of movement work for me; they steady my mind, allow me to control my thoughts and emotions, just as sitting and breathing works for others." Hawke explained.

"Oh." He said thoughtfully. "But do you ever… meditate to music?"

She smiled again at his curiosity. "No. Then it's just called dancing."

Eating with Ianto was different than eating with Dagan. Ianto seemed to enjoy conversation even while shoveling food into his mouth. He was also more curious than his brother, asking more questions rather than telling stories. He reminded her a lot of Bethany.

Once breakfast was finished, Ianto gathered the dishes and stood to leave. She stopped him at the door. "Ianto," she hesitated, feeling awkward. She gave him an almost pleading look, asking him to understand her question without having to voice it. He merely stood patiently at the door, waiting for her to say something. _Fine! Awkward question of the day coming right up!_ "Did Dagan have… some responsibilities that needed his attention before dawn?"

Confusion, then understanding, then a flash of anger crossed Ianto's face before he calmed it into a mask of casualness. "Captain Vergas had no scheduled duties, but he took over the graveyard watch, just after the rain let up."

Her stomach dropped a few feet. "When was that, do you know?"

"A few hours before dawn, Serah." He dropped the emotionless mask when she hung her head and turned away from him.

She did not turn back when she thanked him, instead walking over to the window. She heard the door open and close before she allowed herself to cry. _Maker, I wish Bethany were here to cheer me up, or Aveline to offer advice and strength. Mother would stroke my hair and whisper words of comfort and tell me we all made mistakes. _She exhaled deeply. _We all make mistakes._ She repeated.

She crawled back into the bed, but found that the smell still lingered on the sheets from last night. Instead, she snatched the pillow and grabbed a few extra blankets from the closet. She created her own makeshift bed, curled up, and went to sleep on the floor. She was tired, emotionally and physically, and sleep came quickly.

On deck, as the ship neared its destination, Ianto sought out his brother. He had not thought Dagan so cowardly; to share her bed—it was no longer his, hadn't been for almost the entire voyage—and then abandon her without word was so unlike his brother. Ianto needed to know why Dagan had done this.

Ianto found his target up in the crow's net, overlooking the sea with his spyglass. He swung into the nets with practiced ease and glared.

"Speak your mind, Sailor." The Captain said.

"No."

When the Captain looked at him in confusion, Ianto caught his gaze and held it. After a moment, Dagan sighed and put away the spyglass. "Yes, Ianto?"

"You owe her an apology."

He sagged against the mast and looked down. "I know."

"What possessed you? You clearly didn't both agree to just have a one night fling; she was not expecting _me_ to bring her breakfast."

"I know."

"What happened?"

"I _don't _know. We had dinner; we talked. She didn't want me to sleep in the rain, so I made a pallet to sleep on. The ship rocked, she lost her balance, and the next thing I know we're on the floor…"

"Gah! Details! Not necessary! Skip to the end." Ianto grimaced, not needing the image of his brother knocking boots with anyone.

"She was there, sleeping and I panicked. I mean, Kirkwall," he gestured at the horizon—Kirkwall clearly visible along its length— "is two hours away, at most. What was I supposed to do?"

"You shouldn't have done it at all." Ianto scolded.

"I know! I got carried away, heat of the moment. Blame it on the wine at dinner or the restless nights' sleep. I know it was a mistake."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

He sighed. "The damage is done Ianto. I'll never see her again after today, so what does it matter?"

"Coward." Ianto turned away and climbed down to the deck to help prepare the crew for coming into port.

Captain Vergas did not disagree.

The ship pulled into the Gallows docks and Captain Vergas helped the refugees from the hold, keeping everyone calm. There was a fair amount of desperation in the refugees, they were eager to be off the ship. Aveline couldn't blame them. She was eager to be off the ship too.

She assisted Vergas with the refugees, helping to unload possessions—not that there were many—to disguise the reason why she waited to leave the ship. It would not do to have someone wonder why the apostate's friend lingered on the ship.

She urged Carver and Leandra on shore, agreeing to meet them by one of the slave statues once Hawke was able to leave. She gave the bronze atrocity a nervous glance. Kirkwall certainly didn't make ships or people feel welcome, but what else could one expect from an old Tevinter slave hub.

Once all of the refugees had departed, Aveline made her way to the Captain's cabin. She knocked, entering only after a muffled "come in" from the other side allowed her.

"Hawke." No sooner had the name left her lips than the woman flung herself onto the startled red-head. Surprised at first, it took Aveline a moment, but she returned the hug.

"I'm so glad it's you." Hawke's muffled voice sounded very young with those words.

"Is everything alright, Hawke?" The mage was younger than she by a few years, but it hadn't seemed noticeable to Aveline before now.

Hawke detached herself and nodded hastily. When she ran over to the window to grab her staff, Aveline noticed that there was a nest of blankets on the floor. The pillow that had been on the bed was also on the floor. Aveline wondered what had driven Hawke from the bed, or—remembering her comment—whom.

The mage returned, staff slung across her back, and motioned to the door, "Shall we?"

"Hawke." Aveline stood firmly in front of the door.

"Yes, Aveline?"

"Why were you sleeping on the floor?" She nodded to the blankets.

"I don't… " Hawke frowned and glanced away, avoiding eye contact. "I'd rather not talk about it here."

Aveline nodded and led her friend from the cabin, off the ship, and to her family.

Hawke embraced her mother warmly. "Good to see you again. I missed you guys."

"We missed you too, Dear."

Carver scoffed. Hawke left her mother's arms and turned to her brother, offering him a hug as well. He scoffed again, so she smacked him on the back of the head. "Glad to see you too, Carver."

"We should get going." He grumbled.

The group started walking to the gates. Noticing a large crowd of refugees gathered there, Hawke frowned.

"They're not letting anyone into the city." Aveline said.

"What?" Leandra gasped. "That can't be."

"It's true. Look at them all."

"Are we really surprised?" Carver sneered. "Everyone's fleeing the Blight. Just like we are."

"And they would throw us all back to the wolves." Aveline scowled. "Unbelievable."

"I'm only surprised they let us dock." Hawke muttered.

"We need to find Gamlen. Our family has always been highly regarded in Kirkwall; he can do something, I'm sure of it!" Leandra told the group.

"Let's hope he received your letter." Carver shook his head, doubt filling his voice.

Hawke took Aveline's suggestion of talking to one of the guards. He let them pass, but it was clear his regard for Fereldens was only marginally higher than one view of a rotted pile of dung. Hawke fought the urge to zap him as she passed, managing only because Carver gave her a pointed look.

The group followed the halls to a courtyard. A comment from Aveline regarding the apparent rank of one of the guardsmen, sent Hawke to talk to a man busy arguing with another group of refugees.

"We've been letting you Fereldens in for _months_. You're too late, there's no more room." He told them.

"But we've got family here." Hawke wanted to hit Carver for the whine in his tone. That was _not_ going to impress the guard.

"I've heard claims like that a thousand times already, trust me." He said. "We'll find some ships to take you all back to Ferelden _eventually_. Until then you stay here."

Hawke wondered briefly if there was some invisible inn she had missed on her walk in or if the guard simply expected them to find a space in the courtyard to squat in for Maker-knew-how-long.

She sighed silently and tried to elaborate on Carver's earlier point. "Our uncle is Gamlen Amell. He knows we're coming. Surely someone could find him."

Gamlen… I know that name." Hope flared in Hawke's chest. Maybe they could get in easier than she expected.

"He's a nobleman here in the city. Our family has an estate." Carver explained.

"A nobleman?" The disbelief in the guard's tone smashed what little hope Hawke had gathered. "The only Gamlen I know is a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together." The guard shrugged. "He comes back, I'll bring you to him, but I don't have time to—"

"What?" The outraged cry of one of the—Hawke noticed—well armed refugees, brought her attention to the group next to her. "You're going to let them through?"

"I didn't say anything about—"

"We've been here for four days! They _just_ got here!" Another cried.

_This isn't good…_

"That's it! We're carving our way out of here! Men!"

_Not good, not good, not good!_

They all drew their weapons, Carver and Aveline included. Hawke grabbed her mother by the arm and dragged her away from the ensuing struggle. She kept the woman behind her as she began throwing bolts of fire from her staff. As archers she hadn't noticed earlier started firing at Carver, Hawke sent a fireball to distract them. However, it had the unforeseen side effect of drawing attention to herself.

A group of three angry refugees came towards her with swords raised. She flung lightning at them, watching it arc between the three now twitching men. When they regained themselves, they moved forward again. Shaking her head she called upon ice and swung her staff, sending a wave of jagged ice up from the ground to halt their advance, killing them instead.

It did not occur to Hawke until later to ask herself when she learned Cone of Cold.

The fight was over quickly and Hawke coaxed her mother back towards the guard and the rest of the group. Leandra was a little shaken by seeing her children cut down men, even if they had attacked first.

"Unbelievable." Hawke heard the guard muttering.

"Captain,"—Hawke flinched—"are you alright?" Another guard had arrived.

"I am, no thanks to you. Where is everyone? Go find them! I want this kept under control." He turned to Hawke once the other guard ran off. "You have my thanks."

Hawke nodded, graciously, even though it had been Carver and Aveline who had done most of the work.

"Look, I can't get you into the city. It isn't my decision. But I'll find your uncle and bring him here." The guard said and then left to, apparently, find Gamlen.

_So, pick a cozy pick of floor and wait it is._ Hawke sighed and shook her head. She led the group a little ways up the stairs to a shady place under one of the bronze statues. She watched silently as guards came a bit later to deal with the dead bodies in the courtyard.

"They were Fereldens, just looking for a way in to the city." She muttered to herself, ashamed.

"They attacked us!" Carver insisted.

"Carver is right, Hawke. We were defending ourselves." Aveline stated.

"It still feels… wrong. Taking a life."

"You've killed before—"

"Darkspawn, Carver, never a person."

"They would have killed you, killed Carver, even Leandra if they thought it would get them into the city." Aveline told her calmly.

"I know."

"It bothers you, to take a life. That's good. It means you'll be less willing to do it without good cause."

"What is good cause?" Hawke asked quietly.

"That answer changes depending on whom you ask." Aveline replied. "The better question is, what do _you_ think is good cause? You're a good person, Hawke. Find your line. Find it and take solace in never crossing it."

Hawke nodded.


	8. Getting In

_**Author's Note**__: Ok, so just my luck that as soon as I promise to post more frequently I get a busy week. I apologize for not posting sooner. I will try to make it up to you guys!_

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

It took three days for Gamlen to come to the Gallows. Three days of waiting, sitting in the sun. Kirkwall was a lot hotter than Ferelden. The heat was beginning to get to everyone.

Hawke tuned out Carver's griping as soon as it started. She loved her brother, but that did not mean she had to listen to his pointless whining. Aveline leaned against the stone plinth of the statue, a frown and the sweat glazed across her skin the only indication that she was uncomfortable. Hawke sat next to Aveline, trying to be smaller than the rest of her companions—hoping not to draw too much attention to herself. Leandra managed better than the rest of them, native to this thrice cursed heat. She just paced quietly in what little shade they could find.

The afternoon sun beat down on the third day as unforgiving as it pleased. Everyone was tense and the heat made tempers short. "It's been three days. This waiting has to end." Aveline moaned unhappily. It was the first thing she'd said in two days.

"Gamlen must still be looking for us. I'm sure it won't be much longer." Leandra said calmly.

Hawke noticed someone coming towards them now. She'd never seen her uncle before, but there was no denying the family resemblance. "Don't look now, but I think that's our man."

First impressions were clearly not this man's strong suit. "Leandra! Damn girl, the years haven't been kind to you."

"Gamlen!" Hawke's mother hugged the man desperately.

Hawke, Carver, and Aveline gathered closer and listened. Hawke felt a growing sense of dread as she looked her uncle over. His clothes, his unkempt hair, and his unshaven face did not speak noble to her.

"Let me just say, I wasn't expecting this—the Blight, your husband… dead—I pretty much expected you to be Freleden for life." He said through a forced smile.

"Oh Gamlen, we were too late. My poor Bethany didn't make it, Andraste guide her." Leandra lamented.

"Don't drop this on me, now. I'm not even sure I can get you into the city. I was hoping to grease some palms, but the Knight-Commander"—Hawke flinched—"has been cracking down. We're going to need more grease."

"What about the estate? Surely Father left something when he died." Hawke felt her mother could be rather slow on the uptake occasionally. It was clear to the three of them that Gamlen did not have vast stores of wealth.

"Right… about that. The estate is, well, gone: to settle a debt. I've been meaning to write."

"That's great; what are we supposed to do now?" Carver demanded. Hawke glared at her brother, mentally smacking the back of his empty head. He could be so obtuse at times.

"I managed to convince a few of my contacts to meet with you. They willing to help get you in, but you and your sister are going to have to work off the debt… for a year."

"A year!" Leandra cried.

"It'll be alright mother. We'll do what we must." Hawke placed a soothing hand on her mother's arm, and then turned to Gamlen. "Who are your contacts?"

"Meeran heads the Red Iron, a mercenary guild that operates in the city. And Athenril… well, I guess you could call her a smuggler."

"We'll go talk to them." Hawke promised.

"What of me? I will not allow others to incur debts on my behalf." Aveline protested.

"Can't say that it makes a difference. You look like a girl who can take care of herself." Gamlen chuckled.

"Then you'll come with us." Leandra offered.

"I… don't seem to have much choice. Thank you."

Hawke nodded and led the three away. There were not many people in the courtyard, fewer still who weren't haggard, desperate refugees; finding Gamlen's "contacts" should not be difficult. Meeran was the easiest to find. He and his men were standing not too far from the staircase.

She was hesitant to approach. She did not like the idea of being a mercenary, a sword for hire, not that she even used a sword. She was only one voice however; she was not going to dive blindly ahead without getting other opinions. "Which would you prefer, Carver?"

"I don't really care, so long as it gets us into the city." He said gruffly.

"What about you Aveline?"

"Smuggling is illegal, Hawke. I would rather not find my into the city via the prison."

"You're not the one who's been sold into servitude, you know. You don't have to help us." Carver snapped.

"As I said before, I am not going to let you and your sister pay off a debt on my behalf. I will help you both when and where I can."

"I think I see Meeran. Let's go talk to him, find out what he wants." Hawke pointed at the mercenary before Carver could antagonize Aveline further,

They made their way over and Hawke caught Meeran's attention. He gave her and Carver a cursory glance before shifting his gaze back over to Hawke. She felt dirty just having him look at her, but she was determined to hear him out, for Aveline's sake.

"You must be Hawke. Your uncle talked up a storm about you."

"Did he say anything about me?" Carver asked.

"A bit, but mostly about your sister, though."

"Of course." Carver mumbled. Hawke sighed inwardly; this was hardly the time for sibling rivalry.

"If I'm going to work with you, I'd like to know more about what we'll be doing."

Hawke listened while Meeran explained what she already suspected. They were swords for hire, killing for money—or revenge when cheated—and somehow above the law. Hawke wasn't sure she liked the idea of killing, but Carver and Aveline seemed ready enough to join them.

She sighed. _Find your line, she said. Where is my line? I will not kill simply for coin, but… to get my family into the city…_ She glanced at her family; both Aveline and Carver were looking at her expectantly. _I can tell neither of them would like working for the smuggler, not that Carver would be very good at it anyway. He's not exactly subtle._ Thinking back to the scuffle a few days ago, she realized that she, herself, was not so subtle.

"What of the Templars?" Hawke asked quietly.

"Bah! We can keep you out of their reach for as long you're working for us. We've done it before with no problems." Meeran informed her smugly.

With a silent prayer for forgiveness to whoever was listening, she extended her hand, "I'll do what it takes to get my family into the city."

Meeran shook her hand with a smile and informed her of a nobleman who had willfully given his men bad information regarding a job. He wanted him dead but could not get his men close enough without the noble calling the city guards.

"Kill him, and you're in."

Hawke nodded and stalked off. Once they were out of earshot Aveline put a hand on her shoulder, "Hawke…"

"Find my line. Killing for coin is not where I imagined it would be, Aveline."

"We could have worked for the smuggler; if you're so morally opposed." Carver sneered.

Hawke turned to face her brother, "I am not a soldier like you and Aveline; I am not accustomed to taking a life. I hesitate to kill for coin, but I will do what it takes to get mother into the city."

"Hawke, if it bothers you so, we could talk to Athenril."

Hawke smiled a little at Aveline. "In case you hadn't noticed, we are not the most subtle people. I don't think we'd be very good smugglers."

"And your line?"

"I will do what is required to protect my family and get them into the city. Coin has nothing to do with it."

"Glad that's settled. Can we move on?" Carver sighed.

Hawke nodded and led them on. The noble was not difficult to find, cowering and surround by hired swords as he was. Hawke steeled herself for what she had to do, repeated to herself that it was for her family until it became a little mantra.

The ensuing fight was not long; the three easily dispatched the man and his guards. She took his signet ring as proof for Meeran as, to Hawke's dismay, Carver set about rifling through the pockets of the dead guards.

"Carver!" She hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Building revenue." He said as he tossed a few coppers in the air. He caught them and put them in his coin pouch. "We're not likely to earn much pay working off a debt, now are we? Think of it as putting food on the table."

Hawke paused.

She thought about it.

She tossed him her pack and instructed him to put any sellable items, including salvageable armor and weapons, into the pack while she went through the pockets of the noble.

Aveline just shook her head and muttered something about not seeing any of this.

Hawke dropped the signet ring into Meeran's hand and he grinned. He gestured orders to his men and pocketed the ring as he said, "Welcome to the Red Iron."

Hawke watched as the man made his way over to the city guards before stepping over to Gamlen and Leandra.

"Well, any luck?" Gamlen asked.

"They've agreed to help us." Hawke replied and Leandra sighed in relief.

"Excellent. I'll go talk to Meeran and see when the bribes can be made." Gamlen walked off after their new employer.

"So that's it? We've a home now?" Carver asked.

"If only Bethany were here." Leandra mourned.

"And Wesley."

"No more running for our lives unless it's really necessary." Hawke led the way over to a waving Gamlen.

They followed him as he led them back to the docks and on to a ferry to carry them over to the city proper. Gamlen took the time to assure his sister, "I have a nice place in Lowtown. It's really not so bad."

Hawke and Aveline moved a bit away from the others at Aveline's gentle, silent, suggestion. She clearly had something on her mind. Hawke hoped it wasn't about looting the bodies.

"I'm not sure your uncle's 'nice place' is going to include room for four new residents." Aveline whispered.

"From what I've heard of the city, I'd be surprised if it isn't more than a one-room box." Hawke agreed.

"I appreciate everything you've done, Hawke, but I'm not going to be able to stay with you forever. I'll need to find my own place."

"I know Aveline. For now, we'll do what we can, but I won't stop you from moving out when you get the chance."

"Thank you."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, listening to Gamlen blabber on about pointless topics. When the ferry came to a halt, Hawke jumped out and helped Leandra on to land. Gamlen led them up out of the docks district to Lowtown and from there to his hovel.

Hawke was surprised. It was not a one-room box. It had three rooms. Two doors branching off of the main room led to two bedrooms. It was clear which one Gamlen slept in, but a bunk bed had been set up in the other, smaller room.

One bunk bed.

Hawke frowned, observing her new living arrangements. While she hesitated, Carver wasted no time claiming one of the bunks, glaring at his sister, daring her to deny him. She let him have it and placed Leandra's things on the bunk below his.

Her mother nodded her thanks, and Hawke was glad that she didn't try to object. The beds didn't look particularly comfortable, but the straw mattress would be considerably more comfortable than the floor.

Stepping back out into the main room Hawke saw that Aveline had already unrolled her bedroll, clearly intending for Hawke to take the couch. "Aveline." She started.

"Don't fight me on this Hawke. I am more than used to sleeping on the ground."

"But you're a guest; you shouldn't have to sleep on the floor."

"Neither should you." She said calmly.

Hawke sighed, defeated. There would be no arguing this. She tossed her bag against the wall next to the couch and lounged upon it, grateful for the comfort. She thanked Aveline and invited her to sit on the couch for a moment.

They sat in silence for a bit, lost in their own thoughts. From the snores coming from the other room, Carver and Leandra had decided to sleep. Gamlen was in his own room, but Hawke couldn't bring herself to care what he was doing.

Thinking over the day's events Hawke was glad that it had been worth it. They were in the city. But something still troubled her. "Does it get easier?"

"As a soldier I was protecting citizens from highwaymen, bandits, assassins, outlaws, and darkspawn. I cannot say that their deaths brought me the kind of guilt that you seem to be struggling with."

"So there weren't any you regret?"

"I didn't say that. There are times I would have preferred a nonviolent outcome, such as those refugees a few days ago, and I regret that it ended how it did."

"Me too."

"But in those situations, I do it because I protect those I care for and those under my care."

"But does it get easier?"

Aveline sighed, "Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't."

Hawke nodded, understanding. She hoped that she would get through this year without selling her soul.


	9. Elegant

_**Author's Note**__: Wow this one took forever. I am so sorry for the delay! It is longer, so hopefully that makes up for its tardiness a little. :/ The next few chapters will be of the year Hawke spent working off her debt; I found it a little harder at first because I had nothing to work with, but I didn't want to just skip that year. I think I've got a few good ideas for it though, so no worries. _

_Always, thank you to those who favorite and alert and reviews are always, always welcome! _

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

The Hawke family was allowed to rest that first day in the city. Aveline remained alert for the better part of the afternoon, but Hawke eventually convinced her to sleep. Hawke, herself, dozed lightly on the couch for a few hours, but felt too restless to get much sleep.

Her mind made up, she grabbed the pack that Carver had filled with items off the dead guards and began to go through its contents. Most of what she found would be of little use beyond seeing how much coin she could sell it for, but she did find a ring. She was able to sense the magic in it and slipped it on Aveline's finger before packing everything back up and slinging the pack over her shoulder.

She carried her staff as a walking stick and left Gamlen's house. She had to learn the streets and there was no better way to do that, than explore. She quickly memorized the area around the house to make sure she'd recognize it when she returned then set off to find the market district.

Gamlen had not led them past the market on the way from the docks, so Hawke turned down the unfamiliar street. She followed her ears and, a few turns and stairs later, quickly found the market. There were people crowding the streets looking at the vendors, selling their wares, selling their bodies; whatever would make them enough coin to buy food.

Hawke made her way through the crowd to the vendors and began haggling. Most of the merchants sneered at her and her Ferelden accent, but she still managed to get decent coin from the goods she had in her pack. She didn't let the sneers and snide remarks bother her; she remained polite but firm and they eventually handed over the coin.

Her pack empty and her coin purse… not really full, but fuller, Hawke slipped back into the crowd. Not wanting to go back to Gamlen's crowded hut, she meandered about Lowtown. She knew better than to just wander aimlessly, unawares, but she did make a full circuit of Lowtown, trying to memorize the area.

She made note of the Hanged Man when she passed it as it appeared to be the only tavern in the district. She wanted to visit before going back to her family, but the rapidly sinking sun made her delay the journey. She didn't want to be on the streets alone at night.

On her way back through the bazaar, she purchased enough food for a small dinner for everyone. Just some bread, cheese, and cold meat, but it had taken a good chunk out of the coin she'd gotten today. Carver was right. They'd have to do something on the side to get enough coin to survive.

Stepping back into the shack, she found everyone was still resting. Everyone but Aveline. Her freckled-faced friend looked rather worried until she turned around and saw Hawke. The relief was clear on her face and she moved towards the door.

Hawke held up the food as a peace offering and smiled apologetically.

"Did it take you four hours to get food?"

"No. I was familiarizing myself with the area." Hawke explained, then to change the subject, "Have they slept this entire time?"

"Yes. The journey was not pleasant; I'm sure they are relieved to have mattresses and room to lay down."

Hawke winced, regretfully. It had not been her choice to sleep in the captain's quarters the entire voyage. She would have gladly given her brother or her mother the chance to trade places.

"Well, maybe some dinner will bring them 'round." Hawke unloaded her bundle of food and began preparing dinner. Aveline pitched in and soon there were five plates of food ready for consumption. "Too bad I couldn't get anything hot. Coin doesn't go very far when the vendors are too busy glaring at you to haggle."

"Why were they glaring?"

"Because she's Ferelden." Gamlen answered. He had come out of his room when he heard the two preparing dinner. "There's no love for refugees here in the Marches."

"Joy." Hawke muttered as she picked up two plates. She slid passed Gamlen and knocked on the door to her family's room with her foot. Leandra opened it soon after and Hawke presented her with the food. "Dinner."

There was a startled snort from within the room and Carver's voice sounded, "Food?"

Leandra and Hawke traded small smiles before Hawke replied, "Yes, Carver, food. Aveline made dinner."

He jumped down and took the plate from Hawke's hand, "Thanks Aveline." He went back into the bedroom and ate in his bunk.

Leandra shook her head and accepted the offered plate. "Thank you for making dinner." She went back to her bunk to eat as well.

Hawke rejoined Aveline in the living room, taking her own plate before sitting on the couch next to her friend. "Why did you tell Carver that I made dinner?"

"So that he would thank someone for it. If I'd told him I made it, he would have just grumbled and muttered under his breath." Hawke replied.

"Forgive me for saying this, but it seems you and your brother don't get along very well."

Hawke laughed quietly. "No, I suppose we don't. He can be insufferable, but I love him anyway."

"He's family."

"Exactly."

The two quietly enjoyed the rest of their dinner, not noticing when Gamlen shook his head and slipped back into his room.

The next day Hawke awoke to the sound of someone pounding on the door. Instantly awake, she rolled off the couch to a crouched position on her hands and knees next to Aveline. The red-head was awake as well, sword clutched tightly in her hand as she rolled to her feet.

Before either woman could move to the door, however, the bedroom door slammed open and Carver, wearing only loose breeches, stalked angrily to the other door and yanked it open. "Blood of Andraste, _what_?"

"Message from the Red Iron, Serah." Rapidly retreating footsteps signaled the end of that conversation and Carver closed the door. He muttered obscenities as he went back to his room, tossing the letter at Hawke as he passed.

She broke the seal and read the letter:

_Hawke,_

_Welcome to the Red Iron. Your year begins today and there is work to be done. Bring your brother and meet me at the Hanged Man in an hour._

_Meeran_

"Well, so much for resting." Hawke stood and made herself presentable before going back to Carver's room. She opened the door and poked her head in. Leandra was still asleep, so she quietly made her way over to the bed and shook her brother awake. "Our presence is requested, be ready to go in half an hour." She whispered.

He grumbled and shoved her hand away. Hawke went back into the living room, knowing that he would be ready when he needed to be. Aveline was dressed and armored when she returned.

"You don't have to come with us."

"I hold no debt with Meeran, but I do with you and your family. I will not abandon that."

"I certainly won't turn aside your help." Hawke smiled. "It'll be nice having someone who isn't swinging a sword as big as I am about willy-nilly."

"I do not swing it 'willy-nilly'." Carver growled as he joined them in the living room.

"Well it certainly isn't with any kind of precision that I've noticed." Hawke grinned.

"Says the person who doesn't have to aim. You wouldn't know precision if it knocked you about the head." Carver retorted.

"Oh really? I'll remember you said that next time I toss a fireball to save your ass." Hawke caught her staff when he threw it to her and smirked as she walked towards the door.

Aveline didn't think Hawke saw Carver's small smile, but it was good to know that it was there. They may bicker, but the two did genuinely care for each other.

As the three stepped out of Gamlen's shack, Carver asked, "Why are we leaving now? You said I had half an hour."

"We were all ready to go, might as well get there early; grab some breakfast." Hawke explained.

"Fine, lead the way."

The Hanged Man was not far and the tavern was not terribly crowded this early in the morning. Hawke ordered breakfast for the three of them and grimaced as she handed over the coin to pay for it. Breakfast passed in relative silence, the only noise coming from the few patrons here this early.

Before the hour was up, Meeran and a few Red Irons walked in and made their way to Hawke and her companions. "You're early; that's good."

Hawke took the time to do what she had not yesterday and looked Meeran in the eye. _He's loyal, even if only to his men; a hard man, not prone to acts of mercy or leniency; greedy, too, but what mercenary isn't? He's a bit of a sadists, lovely._

"We try." She muttered, mostly sarcastic, and brought her eyes back to her plate. She did not like this man.

He chuckled and then turned his attention to Aveline, his expression hardening. "Your friend is not on the payroll. It comes out of your own pocket if she's helping."

"I am aware. What's the job?" Hawke interrupted Aveline before she could say anything.

"Starting you off with something simple. Escort duty. Red Iron's been hired to babysit a foppish young noble visiting the city, and his well paying father doesn't want the lad coming to any harm." Meeran explained.

"Sounds easy. Is he _expecting_ trouble?" Hawke asked warily.

"Pick pockets aplenty in Hightown, but beyond that, probably not."

"So we're just supposed to follow some noble about as he does his shopping?" Carver asked.

"You will," Meeran chuckled again, "you're sister however…"

Hawke sighed. "I'm to be arm candy then is it?"

Meeran nodded. "Pretty young thing like you don't fit the part of bodyguard, not like your brother, but you'll fit well enough on his arm."

"Wonderful. When and where?"

"Meet him at the docks one hour before midday; his ship is called _The Wind Dancer_. You will need to meet with Elegant before then, to look the part. She will meet you outside your uncle's once we're through here."

"How long will we be babysitting?" Carver asked.

"One day. Like I said, starting you off easy." Meeran replied. "You'll keep him alive and unharmed from the moment he steps of his ship to when you put him back on it in the morning."

"Very well. Anything else?"

"That's it. Simple." He stood in lieu of a verbal dismissal and left with his guards.

"He said I have to look the part."

"He did." Aveline agreed.

"That means I have to wear a dress, doesn't it."

"In all likelihood, yes."

Hawke groaned and let her head fall to the table.

"Problem Hawke?"

"I don't wear dresses. Dresses make it hard to move, especially fancy ones. All corset-y and such. I don't even wear mage robes!"

"That's because we didn't need you walking around with a sign around your neck saying 'I'm a mage! Arrest me!'" Carver retorted.

Hawke groaned again as a response.

"Come on, Sister. It's going to take this Elegant hours to get you presentable, no doubt. Best get started."

Hawke stuck her tongue out at her brother.

"Kind of proving my point, Tempy."

The three walked the short distance to Gamlen's and found a pretty blonde waiting calmly at the stairs. "You are Hawke?" She asked.

"That's me. Are you Elegant?"

"I am, and hopefully I can teach you to be as well." She nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"No offense, but you don't exactly look the mercenary type." Hawke pointed out.

She laughed quietly. "I do not work for Meeran. I am an independent contractor; I mostly supply potions and poultices, but Meeran asked me to apply my other expertise for this job."

"I see." Hawke found her easy manner easy to get along with. She followed Elegant as she led the way to her own abode. Which was nicer than Gamlen's.

Aveline and Carver had gone back to Gamlen's at Hawke's request, so it was just Hawke and Elegant. The blond gestured to a tub of water for Hawke to bathe in. "You're new to the city, yes? I'll wager you haven't had a proper soak in some time. Place your clothes aside and get in the tub."

Hawke was unused to bathing in front of people, but she didn't think Elegant was going to take advantage of her or anything. She did as she was instructed and slipped into the warm water, submerging completely and then sitting back up. She groaned audibly in pleasure. It _had_ been a while since she'd had a proper soak.

Hawke squeaked when she suddenly felt Elegant's hands in her hair. "Peace, Hawke. I am washing your hair for you, just relax."

"Sorry, you just startled me." Hawke let the tension leave her shoulders as she relaxed again.

"I apologize."

The way Elegant's hands moved through her hair and massaged her scalp felt really nice, so all Hawke managed was a few mumbles in way of response. She sat there and let Elegant do her job for a few minutes before she found her voice again. "What are you putting in my hair?" She had heard the clink of a few glass bottles and felt oils on Elegant's hands.

"It's a recipe of my own making. It cleans the dirt and unseemly grime from the hair and leaves behind a pleasant aroma." She wafted her hand in front of Hawke's nose so that she could smell.

"Mmm… it's like vanilla and… what is that?"

"It is cherry. Have you ever had them? I hear they do not grow in Fereldan."

"I've never even heard of it. It smells nice though."

"You should try them when you can. They are not uncommon in the Free Marches." Elegant went back to working on Hawke's hair and pulled a few of the long strands through her fingers. "You have lovely hair Hawke, such a deep, rich color."

"Yes," Hawke smiled fondly, "all the Hawkes have raven-colored hair. My father enjoyed the irony."

Elegant chuckled behind her. "Ok, rinse your hair out and I'll bring you a sponge so you can scrub."

Hawke sank her head beneath the water and cleaned off the excess oil. By time she finished, Elegant had returned with said sponge and a bar of soap. Hawke scrubbed and scrubbed until she was pink, allowing Elegant to get her back for her. She felt truly clean for the first time in a month.

She stepped out of the tub and into the towel that Elegant had ready for her and quickly dried herself off. Adding a bit of heat to the towel sped the process significantly especially for drying her hair.

Elegant gave her a simple bathrobe to wear and sat her down in a chair. The brush was almost as nice as the bath and Elegant quickly had her hair in a simple up-do. Next came a simple application of face paints, which Hawke had never worn before. She kept flinching when Elegant added something to her eyelids, but finally the arduous task was done.

"Elegant?" Hawke asked as the other woman shifted through various dresses.

"Yes Hawke?"

"Have you… ever been an escort, like this I mean?"

She laughed softly again, "Oh yes, in my youth."

"What… I mean, how… I've never had to be a lady before. What do I do?"

"Oh, it's not too terribly difficult. Stand up straight, place your palm on his arm when he offers, and try not to speak unless in answer to a question. You are meant to look pretty to make him appear more important."

"Right. Easy enough, I suppose."

"Ah, here we are!" Elegant held aloft a red dress with silver embroidery along the bodice. "This should do quite nicely."

Elegant assisted Hawke with putting on the dress and laced her into the bodice. Stepping back, she admired her handiwork. "It's missing something…"

"What?"

Elegant thought silently for a moment before snapping her fingers. She then pulled a length of red ribbon and adorned in Hawke's hair. With a nod of approval, she led Hawke out and back to Gamlen's. "You know, if you weren't quiet so pale I think you could pass for an Antivan noblewoman."

"Good to know?" Hawke wasn't sure what to make of the comment, but filed it away for possible use later. She then sighed, "I won't be able to carry my staff, will I."

"Afraid not. Too obviously a weapon, but I believe that is why Meeran chose you for this task. As a mage, you are a weapon, and do not need to carry one, yes?"

Hawke groaned, "Thanks for the reminder."

"Now, now. None of that. Remember shoulders straight, and a lady would not make such an undignified sound."

Hawke adopted the correct posture and made a small, wobbly curtsy. "My apologies, my lady."

"I'll make a lady out of you yet Hawke." Elegant smiled and knocked on Gamlen's door.

It opened to Carver and Leandra looking confused. Elegant bobbed a perfect curtsy and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present: Mistress Hawke."

Hawke stepped inside and braced herself for whatever comment Carver would no doubt make.

"Maker's breath." Leandra murmured quietly, hands going to her heart and mouth in shock.

"You look like you just stepped out of Hightown, girl. Why are you dressed so preposterously?" Gamlen demanded.

"Just part of paying off our debt, Uncle. We're escorting someone around the city." Hawke informed him. She then turned back to Elegant and thanked her for her time; the blond smiled and left.

"Right. Well. We'd better get to the docks if we're going to be on time." Carver declared and strode purposefully out the door.

Hawke and Aveline followed a little behind Carver, just out of earshot. "You clean up well, Hawke." Aveline told her.

"Helps actually being clean, I suppose."

"Yes, I imagine it would." Aveline chuckled.

Hawke shifted uncomfortably. "This may be a pretty dress, but, Andraste's ass, it's hard to breathe in."

"Corsets are not designed with trivial things like breathing in mind." Aveline criticized. "I avoid them whenever possible."

"I can't say I blame you." Hawke stopped fidgeting and glanced ahead at her brother who appeared to be rather annoyed, again. "What's wrong with Serah Grumpy-Pants?"

"He's your brother, Hawke, I've only known him a few weeks."

"Best guess?"

Aveline sighed. "My best guess is that he's jealous."

"What, he wanted to wear the pretty dress? Can't say that isn't an interesting image…"

"Hawke, you are lovely. Elegant did a magnificent job of making you look like someone who belongs on the arm of a noble."

"Abrupt change of topic, but thank you?"

"He is jealous that once again you will be the center of attention, and that you were given special treatment."

Hawke hmpf'd and shook her head. "If he wants to wear this flaming corset and pretend to like the snooty noble, he's welcome to take my place."

The rest of the walk to the docks was silent. They watched as _The Wind Dancer_ pulled into the harbor, all suppressing a shudder. Not one of them wanted to step foot on a boat again any time soon.

"Just what are we supposed to tell him?" Carver whispered.

"I'm not sure. Meeran wasn't very forthcoming."

"Think it's a test?" Aveline asked.

Hawke sighed. "Now I do. Great." When their client appeared on the deck Hawke stepped forward. "Follow my lead."

Carver and Aveline followed as she led the way to the boat. She waited, head slightly lowered, demurely, as the man stepped from the ship to land. "Greetings, Messere. I trust you had a pleasant journey."

He was fairly young, but older than Hawke by a year or two. He carried an air of self-importance as he regarded her. "It was tedious, to say the least. Who might you be, Serah?"

Hawke dipped a small curtsy, mostly to hide her unsteadiness with the unfamiliar gesture, but he did not seem to notice any wobbles. "I am Lady Hawke. Your father bid you safe travels and has acquired the assistance of the Red Iron to protect you for the duration of your stay in Kirkwall." Hawke gestured graciously towards Carver and Aveline.

The young man's eyes moved to his two new bodyguards, appraisingly. Carver certainly fit the role, hulking tower of a man carrying a two-handed sword like it was nothing. Aveline, while not as physically large as Carver, held a commanding presence and no-nonsense attitude. Both stood confidently at Hawke's side and she was pleased that they were able to play the part well.

"I see. My father is overprotective, but I can see the… benefits of such an arrangement." He turned and gave a few orders to the sailors carrying his luggage and then stepped closer to Hawke and her group. He took her hand and swept a genteel kiss across her fingers. "Shall we relocate? I desire to be away from the smell of fish."

Hawke placed her hand on his offered arm and allowed him to lead her away from the docks, Carver and Aveline in tow.


	10. Naïve

_**Author's Note**__: I hate writers block! Arg! It is the bane of my existence! Anyway, I really am sorry for the delay with this one and it isn't even that long to make up for it. :( However, now that I have this done, the next bit should come nicely. I just wanted to ge this out so that I could let y'all know I'm still alive and writing._

_Always, thank you to those who favorite and alert and reviews are always, always welcome! _

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

"Have you been to Kirkwall before, Messere?" Hawke asked—completely forgetting Elegant's advice to not speak unless spoken to.

"When I was younger. I have not been in many years however."

Hawke glanced at the man. He didn't look to be much older than her own 21, though he carried himself as someone almost 30. She couldn't guess how old he might actually be, and it would be rude to ask. "What brings you back?"

"Other than the fine company?" He smirked down at her. "Perhaps it is nostalgia."

When he seemed disinclined to remark upon it further, Hawke guessed that he did not wish her to know, and since finding out wasn't in the job description, she let it drop. "Forgive my curiosity, Messere."

"Do not concern yourself, Serah, I took no offense."

The walk to Lowtown from the docks was short and soon the smell of fish faded in favor of unwashed human. Hawke was already acclimatized to it, but the noble scrunched his face in obvious displeasure.

Hawke's grip on his arm tightened ever so slightly. She knew that someone like himself would be a prime target for more than just purse cutters in Lowtown. She hoped the presence of Carver and Aveline would be a deterrent for thugs and counted herself lucky it was day rather than night. She kept her eyes alert for anyone who took too much interest in her client.

"Truly, I think I preferred the smell of fish." He commented, none too quietly. "I do not remember it being this bad."

Hawke sighed inwardly. Insulting the locals was not going to make him _less_ of a target. "The district has seen a recent increase in refugee population. Fereldans escaping the Blight." She told him gently.

"Let us move quickly then. I do not wish to be surrounded by the desperate."

Hawke nodded silently and increased the pace to Hightown. She took note as people stared at the group, but since no one made a move towards them, she relaxed a little. The stairs to Hightown appeared before them and Hawke sent a wordless curse to her dress. She had to hold the skirt in one hand so that she would not trip—something she was certain _would_ happen if she didn't hold the fabric. It rendered both hands occupied as she climbed—keeping one on the noble's arm—and she disliked the idea.

_I don't even know his name._ She realized, scolding herself. _How am I supposed to ask? Is it my place to ask? Why didn't Meeran tell me his bloody _name_?_

At the top of the stairs the noble took a deep breath. "Ah," he exhaled, "much better." He headed further into the district and Hawke followed, looking around.

They had entered the Hightown market. Vendors littered the courtyard, shouting their wares and gesturing widely. It was all white and grey stone, very clean, and bright. The colorful nobles meandered; self-important noblemen sneered at wares and gaggles of gossiping noblewomen spent more time looking at other people than the available merchandise. The occasional servant would run by, hurrying to complete whatever errand.

One such servant bumped into the noble on his way past, apologizing quickly and hurrying off. Hawke wasn't fooled however and gestured silently to Aveline. Her friend nodded and grabbed the servant by his shirt, holding out her other hand expectantly.

The man reddened and dropped the coin pouch in her hand. She let him go and he ran. Aveline then past the pouch subtly to Hawke who then slight-of-handed it onto the noble's belt.

He never noticed the theft.

Hawke frowned a little. _He should be more observant. He is inviting trouble by not paying attention. Though, I suppose that's why we're here._

Carver rolled his eyes at his sister's subtleties, feeling them unnecessary. Why his magic-using sister had decided to learn and practice slight-of-hand tricks was beyond him. She didn't even use it for something useful like purse snatching. Just entertainment, childish illusions.

It annoyed him. He worried that she was tempting fate; that one day someone would see her make something "magically" disappear and mistake it for genuine magic. He reminded himself to yell at her for it later.

The noble led them around the market for many hours—encountering so many cutpurses that Hawke lost count—before stopping to eat at a small but fancy restaurant near the market. It was fairly empty since the time they stopped to eat was too late for lunch, but still an hour or two too soon for diner. Hawke preferred it this was; it made keeping an eye out for trouble that much easier.

"I do apologize for stopping so late to eat, Serah. Sea travel does not always agree with my stomach." He told her as he helped her to her seat.

"It is no trouble, Messer." She smiled graciously at him.

Carver and Aveline stood apart from them, almost on the other side of the dining area—within eyesight if not earshot. Bodyguards apparently didn't get to eat with their charges. _Add it to the list of things Carver gets to be mad at me for. Excellent._ She sighed to herself. _At least they aren't going without food entirely._

As the noble sat across from her, he followed her gaze. "Hm," he mused, "I don't think I'd noticed earlier, but you and he bare a resemblance. Is it just coincidence or are you related?"

"He is my brother, in fact." She told him.

"I see." He spared Carver another glance before focusing on Hawke again. "He appears to be quite skilled, if a bit young."

"He is." She smirked.

"The other one… she is skilled as well, I assume?"

Hawke nodded. "She was in the army, an officer I believe."

"Is that so? Yes, I can believe that."

"They are both very good at what they do; you will be well protected while in Kirkwall." Hawke assured him.

He sighed. "I'm sure, but as I said before, my father worries overmuch. I do not need bodyguards."

Hawke wanted to tell him that he did, she wanted to inform him of the truly absurd number of attempts on his purse, but she could not find a polite or lady-like way of doing so. Correcting him seemed like a bad idea, but she worried that he might order them away if he truly felt like they were unnecessary.

"Kirkwall is not the safest city in the Marches; anyone can run into trouble. I'm certain he simply worries for your wellbeing." Hawke decided on a general statement rather than something specific.

"I am sure it has very little to do with my person, Serah, but rather what is on it." He informed her in a bored tone.

Hawke blinked, surprised. "Messer?"

"I'm carrying something of import on my person, Serah. It is why I am here, but I assure you it is no cause for alarm. No one even knows I have it, aside from my father. Personally, I think it rather foolish of him to call attention to my presence by assigning bodyguards."

Hawke stared at him in shock. He could not be serious. She looked at the outlandishly bright clothes he was wearing and had to bite her lip to keep the scathing remarks behind her teeth. He was as ostentatious as the Viscount Keep and didn't need bodyguards to draw attention. _Was that why we've had to stop so many thieves? Oh Temperance, what have you gotten yourself into this time?_

She could believe someone to be naïve enough to think that information of a valuable nature would stay secret, Bethany had certainly had moments of extreme naivety, but she didn't think people that green were sent to carry important items! Especially someone like the noble sitting in front of her.

This job was going to be harder than she had thought.

"Messer, if I may be so bold, I feel I must inform you that while we were perusing around Hightown, my companions and I thwarted at least a dozen cutpurses."

He shook his head, "I do apologize that guarding me is so uneventful that you have time to help others—"

"No, Messer, you misunderstand." Hawke interrupted, completely done with the lady-like persona. "They were all after _your_ purse."

"Mine? Surely not, I would have noticed so many people accosting—"

"Not everyone needs to bump into you to get at your purse."

He was quiet for a moment, frowning, before he eventually murmured. "I had not realized crime in Hightown had reached such a point… perhaps I should consider a different city."

"That won't help."

"And why not?"

"Because there shouldn't have been that many people after your purse, especially when you're clearly traveling with bodyguards. Someone is after whatever you're carrying and they have hired people to get it." Hawke told him bluntly.

"No, my father is the only other person who knows—"

"Information has a way of getting around. Even more so when coin is involved."

He frowned at her. "How do I know you aren't trying to swindle me? You're a mercenary, you could just be after a bigger payday."

"Messer, as I stated earlier, we have stopped many thieves from taking what is yours. If I truly wished to steal it for myself I could have done so many times over."

"I have only your word on that. _I _don't remember any cutpurses—"

"Messer," Hawke interrupted again, frustration leaking into her voice, "before we sat down I did not even know you had anything of value beyond coin. Maker's breath, I don't even know your name! No one would do a job that blind!" He seemed to pause and think about what she said. At the very least he didn't accuse her of lying again. Taking that as a good sign, she continued, "I'm being genuine with you, it's my job to keep you protected. I'm not trying to cheat you."

"Ménard."

"Sorry?" Hawke said a little awkwardly, taken aback by the sudden revelation.

"My name is Edmond Ménard."

"Temperance Hawke." She replied. "Now, tell me why you're here."


	11. Improvising

_**Author's Note**__: Super sorry about the wait, I was busy with moving and school semester starting. Long one though! Enjoy! I hope that all these chapters are still readable, the deleting of older documents has me a little worried, but it worked when I tried looking it up, so I'm hoping it still works…_

_Always, thank you to those who favorite and alert and reviews are always, always welcome! _

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

"I hardly think you are one to—"

"Why? Because I'm a delicate Lady?" Hawke arched her eyebrow at Edmond.

"Well, frankly, yes."

Hawke scoffed. "Don't let the dress fool you. I am more than capable."

Food was brought to them before more could be discussed. Hawke decided that was a good thing. This was hardly the place to talk about what was going on. They needed to go somewhere private, but where? She could hardly take the Orlesian nobleman back to Gamlen's, and she really didn't want to talk about anything even remotely valuable around her uncle.

She ate quickly; she wanted to get elsewhere. Soonest.

Sensing her urgency, or perhaps because he also wished to be elsewhere, Edmond was quick to finish his meal as well. He paid the server when she came to collect their plates, and the four left the quiet restaurant as nonchalantly as a nervous nobleman could manage.

Which was to say: not very.

"Ménard, you are going to have to calm down." Hawke whispered to him, placing her arm on his.

"How am I supposed to be calm? My pleasant trip is ruined, and now I have to worry about being attacked!" He hissed, his Orlesian accent even thicker under stress.

Hawke pulled him behind a building away from prying eyes and ears. Aveline and Carver followed, slightly confused. She caught both of them with a look and gestured for them to approach.

"What's going on, Hawke?" Aveline asked.

"We've had an interesting development." Hawke started. "It seems that Meeran didn't have all the relevant information."

"Get to the point, Sister."

She shook her head. "Not here. We need somewhere safe to talk."

"Here isn't safe?" Ménard asked, sheepish.

"Messer," Aveline began calmly, "we're in an ally; I'm surprised we haven't been jumped already."

He paled, swallowed heavily, and commenced throwing nervous glances at his surroundings—expecting to see someone ready to attack him. Hawke glanced a little reproachfully at Aveline for making him even more nervous. The soldier shrugged unapologetically.

"Hanged Man?" Carver suggested.

"Too crowded. We'll be overheard."

"What about his place?" Carver asked. "They had to have taken his luggage somewhere."

Hawke turned to her charge and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you have an estate we can go to?"

He shook his head, "No. But I have a room and the Blooming Rose."

Hawke gave her partners a curious glance, _Have either of you heard of this place?_ She asked silently. She didn't want to admit to knowing so little of the city, but if neither of her companions knew, she would have to ask.

Thy both shook their heads, however, so she had to get clarification. "Where is it?"

"The um," he cleared his throat, "the red lantern district."

"Red lantern… it's a brothel?" Aveline probed.

Hawke saw him nod and shook her head. "Then definitely not. Can't trust any of them not to sell us out for the right price."

"What about the Chantry?" Aveline offered. "It'll be almost empty now."

Hawke thought it over and then nodded. "Ok. Let's go."

"Are you serious, Sister? The Chantry?"

"This isn't Lothering, Carver. I'll be fine." She whispered, hoping the Orlesian wouldn't overhear her.

The sun was setting and the group made haste to the grand building. They slipped in and made their way upstairs. Hawke took the time to look around, to check for observers she told herself, but really, she was too busy marveling the massive palace—and truly, she could use no other word—around her. The Chantry in Lothering hadn't been small, but this was large enough to hold that building a dozen times over and still have room!

The giant golden statue of Andraste just seemed over the top for her tastes. The amount of coin spent on that extravagance alone could be used to feed everyone in Lowtown for a year. She expected grandiose displays of wealth from royalty—and Orlesians—not people dedicated to helping the poor and unfortunate.

This place made her skin crawl.

Aveline found a deserted room and guided everyone inside. Hawke was grateful not to be looking at the demonstration of righteous superiority anymore and settled down to business.

"Now that we're relatively safe; what are you carrying, why are you in Kirkwall, and who else is after it?"

His hand went to his belt pouch and clutched it tightly, probably to reassure himself that it was still there. "It's a gem; I'm transporting it to Starkhaven."

"If it's going to Starkhaven, why are you in Kirkwall?" Carver asked.

"I'm meeting a contact to organize safe passage." He sneered. Clearly he did not appreciate being interrogated by someone he viewed as Less.

"Ménard, you're going to have to be a little more forthcoming with the details." Hawke told him calmly. "Why couldn't you organize safe passage from the start?"

"My father didn't want anyone to know where I was going until the last possible moment in order to prevent ambushes on the way. My contact in the city knows only that he has been hired to take someone somewhere, not who I am, what I carry, or where I am going."

"That's impractical, how is he supposed to know it's you he's been hired by?" Carver asked, growing ever more impatient with the noble.

"I have code phrase that will let him know who I am, obviously."

"The sooner we get you to your contact, the sooner you can leave, yes?" Hawke shot Carver a look telling him to be quiet.

"No. We have a set time to meet."

"Which is?"

"Third bell after sundown."

The first bell rang.

The first arrow struck Ménard in his left shoulder.

Hawke quickly lowered him to the ground and stood over him protectively while Carver and Aveline drew weapons, facing the now broken door and emerging mercenaries. Another arrow sang between the two bodyguards, but missed its intended target by inches. Three more men entered the room to engage blades with Carver and Aveline while the archer moved to a corner to try to get a clear shot.

Hawke focused on the injured noble, trusting Aveline and Carver to protect them. "Ménard, can you hear me?"

"That's… that's a lot of blood. Is that… my blood?" His eyes rolled back into his head and he fainted.

"Pansy." Hawke murmured, but she was secretly glad. At least now he wouldn't know she was about to heal him.

_Ok, simple enough. Remove the arrow first_—she yanked it out as gently as she could—_next check the damage. Not internal organs hit, no poison; nicked the clavicle but that's easy. Just a simple puncture._ She healed him quickly and laid him gently on the floor.

"Some assistance would be welcome!" Carver shouted.

Hawke turned and saw that her brother sported an arrow in his leg and both he and Aveline had many freely bleeding cuts; some looked rather deep. They were fighting six men and Hawke had completely lost track of the archer.

With a furious yell, Hawke unleashed a blast of lightning from her fingers that danced between the attacking mercs, leaving the four still standing a little dazed. Carver and Aveline pressed the advantage and dispatched them before they had time to recover.

The archer loosed another arrow, this time hitting his target. Hawke gasped breathily in pain as the arrow lodged itself in her chest. It became painful and difficult to draw breath, so Hawke decided that it was a really good idea to sit down.

When she opened her eyes again she found that she was on the floor. Aveline and Carver her loking at her with worried and angry expressions, respectively. "Ow." She whispered.

"Good job, Tempy! Attract the archer's attention; what a brilliant idea!" Carver snapped.

"Carver, stop yelling." Aveline scolded.

Hawke tried to sigh, but breathing still hurt. She looked down and saw that the arrow was still firmly embedded in her chest. "I think… it punctured my… lung. Give me… moment…" Hawke closed her eyes and focused.

_Yes, definitely got the lung. Blood pooling, have to stop that… Pulling this out could kill me… through, has _"to go through… "

"Hawke?"

"Arrow… push it through."

Carver snapped off the fletching and grasped the shaft firmly. He looked at his sister and waited for her to nod before pushing the arrow the rest of the way through her chest. She cried out when it happened, but quickly set to healing the wound before she died.

Several minutes later Hawke took a gasping breath and looked at her companions. They had put bandages around their own hurts, which—thankfully—weren't many and had already begun "building revenue." Checking on Ménard, Hawke found him to be still unconscious. Frowning, she used the last of her reserves to bring him around.

He sat up and looked around, confused. When he finally seemed to remember where he was, his hand went instantly to his purse. He clutched it tightly, reminding himself that it was still there and then looked to Hawke and the others.

"What happened?"

"You were hit, your bodyguards fought off the attackers, you woke up." Hawke explained briefly. "Better question: what is so special about that gem?"

He frowned.

Hesitated.

Then, "It's a good luck charm, of a sort. That's all I'll say about it."

"A good luck charm? You've got to be joking! We're risking our necks for a bloody superstitious rock?" Carver shouted.

"Carver!" Hawke silenced her brother with a glare and his name. "Ménard, they sent people after you in the Chantry; there has to be more to it than that."

"It doesn't matter. Knowing will not stop them from coming, I am not here to appese your curiosity." He shook his head in a final dismissal.

Hawke sighed, she would get nothing more out of him. Instead she went over to Aveline and Carver, placing a gentle hand on both. "How are you doing?" She asked softly, checking their hurts with the smallest tendrils of magic she could.

"We'll be fine, Hawke, but we should relocate. This location is no longer safe."

"Agreed. We should get somewhere more public; get lost in the crowd." Carver suggested.

All three turned to look at the noble. He was not inconspicuous; it would be hard to lose him in any crowd. Hawke's dress, too, added an element of showiness that didn't lend itself to blending in.

"Where is the meeting place?" Hawke asked.

"Docks, harbormaster's office."

"Fine. We go now, hold up somewhere protected, and then wait for your contact. Let's move."

Hawke left no room in her voice for argument and headed for the exit. Carver and Aveline made sure that Ménard was next, and then closed the door behind them. Hawke spared not one glance for the statues or finery that towered over her as she left. It was a poor mask and offered no real sanctuary or salvation.

They made their way through Hightown, Lowtown, and the second bell without incident and found the harbormaster's office empty when they arrived. Hawke set to finding a secure corner to shove the noble into so they could wait out the rest of the hour, hopefully, in silence.

She made sure to look everywhere, even at possible roof access; she wanted no more bloody surprises.

"Do want to find a chest to put him in?" Carver offered.

"Tempting, but no. This should do." She guided her charge to a small nook and looked him in the eyes, "You are to stay here. This spot is safe. The only way to you is through us. Stay. Here."

He bristled. "I am not one of your Ferelden dogs to be ordered about."

"Of course you aren't. A Mabari has a lot more brains than you do." Hawke quickly turned away from him, feeling the stinging in her eyes that told her she was very close to crying.

She missed Ser Pup and wished very strongly that her faithful Mabari was here. They had gotten separated during the family's escape from Lothering. She had wanted to stop and look for him, but the darkspawn were on their heels. All she could do was hope that he survived and found somewhere to hide.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and took stock of what was around her. Aveline and Carver had both taken up defensive positions and were ready should anyone come for them. She walked up next to them and asked, "What do you think?"

"I think it's a good spot for an ambush." Aveline said.

"I agree, this isn't safe." Carver nodded.

"It'll have to do for now." Hawke leaned a little against her brother and took deep breaths. The trek from the Chantry to the docks should not have winded her so, but she was short of breath all the same.

"Hawke, are you alright?" Aveline asked, looking at her friend concerned.

"Keep on the lookout." Hawke said softly, gesturing with her hands for emphasis. "I'll be fine. Just a little out of breath."

"Why?" Carver demanded quietly.

"Not sure. Possible that lung didn't heal fully."

"Do you need lyrium? Try again?"

Hawke shook her head. "Can only do so much, Carver. I don't have Bethany's skills."

He nodded and allowed her the time she needed to slow her breathing.

She stood up again, having caught her breath, and looked around. All was quiet.

The three stood watch until the third bell made them all jump. Within seconds a man moved into what little light there was. Hawke tried to get a good look at him, but he was mostly in the shadows. He didn't appear to have any weapons on him, but he could easily be hiding a dagger in his boots.

"Hail!" The stranger called raising his hand in greeting.

Ménard stepped out past Hawke and the others—presenting himself a perfect target in the process—and raised his hand in response. "Hail, fine weather for a day at sea, is it not?"

The stranger nodded, "If the Maker bid us swift passage, it is." He regarded the small group before him and then eyed Ménard again. "You are the contract?"

Warning bells went off in Hawkes head but before she could stop him Ménard nodded and stood straighter, resuming his noble stature. The stranger's hand when down sharply and five men dropped from the roofs above, brandishing swords.

Hawke grabbed Ménard by the shoulder and put all her weight into shoving him back into his corner. "Stay here means _stay here_! Moron!"

Carver dropped his backpack and drew his greatsword, Aveline already had her shield and sword ready, and Hawke wished she had her staff with her. Instead she grabbed the backpack and dug around for a lyrium potion. She drew it out and grimaced as she drank it down.

Feeling charged with power she had to release it. Drawing on that electrical feeling she cast lightning at the advancing men followed swiftly by a fireball. Carver and Aveline moved in then to rein in the remaining attackers.

Just as the last of them fell more men flooded the area from the street beyond, Hawke could have screamed in frustration, but she did not. Instead she began a rapid version of her meditative dance. She did not have a staff to focus energy so she had to do it by herself and that meant meditation.

Occasionally she would throw lightning or ice, but she couldn't cast fireball with her friend and brother in the middle of the fight, she relied mostly on the physical energy she could manipulate through the dance.

When it was over, Aveline held the contact bodily while Carver started looting. Hawke turned to glare daggers at Ménard who was staring at her with a mix of awe and fear and what might have been a touch of desire.

Hawke glared even more and went over to him. "What did I tell you? That—" she pointed at his feet to emphasize her point—"is safe. There! Not in front of your bodyguards where anyone and their bloody cat can see you! You, Ser, are a first class imbecile!" She was breathing hard at the end of her rant and from the exertions of the battle.

"You… you were dancing." He whispered.

"Oh for the love of…" Hawke started rubbing her temples to fight the headache she was developing. "No, I was improvising. Can you _focus_, Ménard, for two seconds."

He seemed to try, she could see him try to gather himself back into the pompous noble that he had been a few moments ago, but he failed somewhere along the way and just looked a little lost. "What happened?"

"Your contact sold you out. He's still alive if you'd like to talk to him." Hawke gestured to Aveline's prisoner.

Ménard got to his feet and walked over, Hawke close at his side.

Before either could speak the contact spat at Hawke, "Witch."

She sighed and wiped the saliva from her face. She then flicked him hard on the forehead, something Carver used to do to her and Bethany when they were younger. It hurt enough to get someone's attention, but wasn't actually harmful. She heard Carver snort out a laugh from behind her and had to fight not to grin.

"Sorry about that Hawke." Aveline said, readjusting her grip so that he couldn't do it again.

"No worries." Hawke then turned to Ménard. "Is there perhaps something you'd like to ask the man?"

A few minutes in it became clear that Ménard didn't really know what he was doing. Which, really, shouldn't have been a surprise, but Hawke thought to let him try before she took over.

After one particularly useless reply, Hawke flicked him on the forehead again and glared. "Tell me what I want to know or I'll cook your family jewels." When he hesitated she summoned a ball of fire to her hand to show him she wasn't bluffing.

"Ok, ok! We was told to find him and take all he got."

"Told by whom?"

"Didn't know him; human though, tall, Orlesian."

"Did he tell you what you were looking for?"

"No, just that him is what had it. Kill him and bring back what he got."

"Bring it where?"

"Warehouse, east docks."

"Any idea who he might be talking about?" Hawke asked Ménard.

"No. No one should have known about any of this except me and my father."

"Fine. Take us to this warehouse." Hawke nodded to Aveline to let him go. "Remember, if you run, I can and will set fire to your ass."

He nodded and led the way to a warehouse, "How many people inside?" Hawke asked quietly.

"Not sure. 'Bout five or seven?"

He knocked in a distinct pattern and a voice on the other side asked, "Password?"

"Don't get smart Johnny, you Blighted well know it's me!"

The door opened and Aveline slipped in. She struck Johnny with the pommel of her sword and knocked him out. She lowered him quietly to the floor and the group continued.

They entered a big open area in the warehouse and were greeted by six armed men and one finely dressed Orlesian. Hawke shook her head. She should have warned him, she had guessed this would be the case. The Orlesian standing before them bore a striking resemblance to the one by her side. Definitely family, but he was too young looking to be his father.

"Edmond? Claus, what is the meaning of this?"

"Lucas?"

Hawke sighed.

This apparently drew Lucas's attention away from Edmond and he grinned, "Did Father buy you a whore, Edmond?"

"Something he would never do for you, dear brother."

"I don't need him to buy me anything, I can just take it from you."

"Is that why you're here? To take the gem?"

"It was rightfully mine! I'm the eldest, it was mine, he had no right to sell it to that bastard in Starkhaven!"

"Father cut you out of his will, you have no right to _anything_!"

"You should never have stuck your nose in my business; Father would never have known!"

_This is completely ridiculous and has gone on long enough_ "Ladies! Ladies, you're both pretty." She shouted to get their attention.

Both brothers turned to glare at her, but Edmond calmed his features quickly. Lucas moved toward her, though, and grabbed her roughly by the arm. "Listen, whore, I don't know who you think you are—"

She head-butted him, breaking his nose with a wet sounding crunch. "I am not a whore. That you immediately jumped to that conclusion is sad; what's worse is this pathetic squabble that I seem to find myself in the middle of. Grow up."

"Ferelden bitch!"

"Yes, yes. Get it out of your system."

"You'll pay for that." He grabbed her again and she kneed him in the groin. He collapsed to the ground, gasping.

While he lay there, moaning, Hawke calmly walked over so that she could look down and make eye contact. "You are even more of a moron than your brother. I suggest you leave before I do something permanent."

He scrambled to his feet and ran to a small ship that was docked nearby. Hawke watched the ship pull out and sail out of the harbor before turning back to Ménard. "So, you want to go to Starkhaven?"

"I… How did you…?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Focus Ménard."

"What? Oh, yes, Starkhaven." He nodded.

"Great." She turned to the six confused men that had been hired by Lucas. "Your employer has left, you should too."

Being addressed seemed to snap them out of their confusion and they looked to Claus for orders. He stepped away from Hawke and the others and started ordering the men to pack up. Business done.

Hawke guided her group out the way they came and away from the docks. "We'll take you to your room at the Blooming Rose and then find you safe travel to Starkhaven tomorrow."

"Thank you Hawke."

She nodded her acceptance, but she was absolutely done with this day and this noble. She vowed never to go into a job blind like this ever again and she was going to give Meeran a piece of her mind when she saw him.

They dropped him off at the Blooming Rose and she graciously accepted a kiss across her knuckles without hitting him. The three left Hightown and went back to Gamlen's in silence.

When they got there Hawke had one thing on her mind, one destination, but her couch was denied her when Leandra greeted them. "Oh! Carver, you're hurt!"

Hawke tested her reserves; she had a little left from the lyrium she had taken. It was enough to patch up Carver and Aveline's hurts. She apologized for not doing it sooner. They both brushed off her apologies and told her not to worry about it.

Carver went to his bed after he was healed and promptly passed out. With that door closed, Leandra and Aveline helped Hawke out of her corset and dressed. Her mother tsk'd at the sight of the holes. "What did you do to it?"

"Cloth is surprisingly not as effective against arrows as you would think." Hawke told her.

"Tempy! Are you all right? This must have gone right through your chest!" Upon closer inspection Leandra found the shiny new scar that Hawke had right above her right breast.

"I'm really all right, Mother. Don't worry. All healed." Hawke promised.

Leandra shook her head and sighed, "Such a dangerous life; curse Gamlen thrice over for getting you into this!"

"No, Mother. It was the only way to get into the city, it's okay." Hawke tried to calm her mother. "Is the dress salvageable?"

"Of course, nothing I can't fix tonight." Leandra refocused her attention on the garment and distractedly bade the two goodnight before joining Carver in the other room.

Hawke put on a shirt and fell onto the couch. "So… tired… remind me never to go without my staff ever again. Ever."

"What was that you did?"

"Meditation, sort of. I'll explain later, when I'm not so tired."

"Goodnight, Hawke."

"G'night Aveline." Hawke was asleep as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

The next morning, Hawke and Aveline—she gave Carver the day off—set out to talk to the caravans in the Merchant's Guild on their way to the Rose. Once she found one that was headed to Starkhaven she secured Ménard a spot with promise of coin from said person.

She told him this as soon as he opened the door. She stepped aside to let a tiny elf out of the room and gave Ménard a disapproving glance.

"You said you found a caravan?"

"Yes, and assuming you haven't spent all of your coin on entertainment, they'll let you ride with them."

He scoffed and closed the door; a few minutes later he was dressed for travel and had his things ready to go. "Good. Let's go."

She dropped him off with the caravan, accepted the coins he gave her as a bonus, and then left for the market. She had goods to sell.

Once that was done she turned to Aveline, "Anything else you want to do?"

"Yes, in fact, but I can go alone. You go back to your uncle's and rest. You deserve it." She said and gave Hawke a companionable pat on the back.

Hawke nodded but gave Ménard's bonus to her. "You deserve this." She turned to go to Lowtown before Aveline could give it back.

She entered the Hanged Man looking for Meeran. She found him in the corner and sat down across from him.

"Job done?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll let you know when I've got another for you."

"That's it? You're not going to ask how I managed to pull off a job with zero intel?"

"You're alive and in one piece, clearly you had all the information you needed."

Disgusted, Hawke left and went back to Gamlen's. She hid the coin pouch in her leather jerkin and went back to sleep.


	12. Payment

_**Author's Note**__: So I have this new idea, but you guys have waited a long time for this update, so I'll let you read it. We'll talk again when you're done!_

_Always, thank you to those who favorite and alert and reviews are always, always welcome! _

_**Disclaimer**__: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

It was a week before Meeran sent another letter. This one was addressed to Carver.

"Says he can't use you for this one." Carver told her when he returned from the Hanged Man.

"All the better." Hawke stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes.

"Great." Carver rolled his eyes. "You just laze about all day and I'll go risk my neck. That's fair."

"Stop whining, Carver. I'm not going to be here all day."

"You shouldn't go out and attract attention. There are Templars everywhere."

"Well which is it Carver? Should I laze about here or should I go out and risk Templar wrath?" Hawke grinned.

"This isn't funny, Sister."

"If I don't find the humor in life I'll wind up as ill-tempered and grim as you."

"You're impossible." He turned and stalked toward the door, slamming it behind him on his way out.

Hawke frowned as dust and tiny bits of the ceiling floated lazily down, shaken loose by Carver's show of temper.

"Lovely. I bet it leaks when it rains."

Aveline opened the door, then, and sat next to Hawke on the couch. "Good morning, Hawke."

"Morning Aveline. You left early today."

"I tried not to wake you."

"No, it's fine. Hard to sneak about it this shack."

"I was not sneaking, Hawke."

"That might be why you woke me up." Hawke grinned. "Really though, I've hardly seen you these past few weeks, not that I can blame you for avoiding this hovel, but what have you been doing?"

"I've been… exploring an opportunity."

"Are you evading the question? That's unlike you."

"I just want to be sure before I share."

"Fair enough." Hawke sighed as she lay back on the couch once more.

"What's on your mind?"

"Meeran sent another letter today."

"You're still not fully recovered from the last one." Aveline commented.

It was true too. Hawke was still experiencing shortness of breath and it bothered her. She needed to be in better health in order to protect her family; she didn't have time to catch her breath every few minutes. She resolved to do what she could to fix that.

But that wasn't an issue today.

"Just Carver this time."

"Oh. I see. You worry about him."

"You saw how spectacularly the last one went! Who knows what'll happen this time." Hawke frowned with worry. She wouldn't show it to Carver, her brother would say she was treating him like a kid again, but she worried for his safety.

"He survived Ostagar." Aveline pointed out.

"Barely. You didn't see the mess that crawled onto our doorstep; it took both me and Bethany to get him on his feet so we could run."

"He made it all the way from Ostagar to Lothering in that condition?"

Hawke nodded absently. "Father's doing no doubt. He always drilled it into our heads to never give up; to do what you had to for as long as you had to until the job was done. Usually he said that when we were running from Templars, but it applies here too."

"He'll come back in one piece, Hawke, have faith."

Hawke stood and grabbed her cloak. "I could have faith, or I could be practical."

Aveline gave an approving nod as Hawke swept out the door. She went quickly to the Hanged Man and slipped in with her hood up, hoping not to be noticed. She scanned the room and found Carver's bulk easily enough—he stood a head taller than the four other mercenaries around him.

Meeran was seated at a table talking, though what was said was lost to Hawke through the din of other patrons. She wanted to get closer to hear what was being said, but she didn't want to get caught. Carver would never forgive her if he found out she was shadowing him.

The barmaid, Nora, passed by Hawke and she stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Nora, would you be willing to do me a favor?"

"I don't get paid for favors, Mistress."

Hawke pulled out the coin purse and dropped a few silver onto Nora's drink tray. "Would you be so kind as to tell me the nature of that conversation?"

Nora glanced over at where Hawke gestured and frowned. "You want me to eavesdrop on the Red Iron? You trying to get me killed?"

Hawke dropped another five silver—most of what she had left—onto the tray, "Please Nora, I'm trying to keep my brother safe."

"Hmpf." The barmaid walked away and stuffed the silver into her dress, but she did meander over to Meeran's table.

Hawke smiled when Carver ordered a drink. He never could resist a girl working in a bar. She lingered, quietly, to see if anyone else wanted to order, but when no one did, she walked to the bar to get Carver's drink. She brought it to him and moved away to tend to other patrons—not quiet out of earshot.

When her rounds finally brought her back to Hawke she glared up at her. "Meeran's got your brother and those louts looking for a man called Tagit in Darktown; he's suppose to give 'em information on the mark."

"Did he say where to find Tagit?"

"Just said Darktown. I wouldn't go there if I was you, Serah. Darktown ain't no place for nobody."

"Thank you, Nora." Hawke nodded her head and slipped out the door.

She wanted to get to Darktown before Carver, hopefully find Tagit, and then listen in on their conversation. She wouldn't do anything unless she had to; she was just making sure everything went smoothly.

She debated on fetching Aveline. Darktown was supposed to be a pretty bad place, even compared to Lowtown. She remembered what Dagan had told her about it and she didn't really feel entirely comfortable roaming about by herself, but getting Aveline would take time, finding Tagit would take even more, and if she wanted to get there first, she had to move fast.

She took the steps down to the Docks as fast as she dared, took time to catch her breath, and then moved to the Darktown entrance she noted on her way to Lowtown that first day.

Darktown was, as it turned out, dark. The underground portion of the city received very little in the way of light; just what filtered through from the airshafts. She didn't stand around to gawk for long, however, and soon started picking her way through the trash and refuse toward the sound of people.

There were a lot of people in Darktown. More, even, than there were in Lowtown. She had to find Tagit in this sea of bodies and she had no idea where to start.

_This was a dumb idea Temperance, _she scolded herself. _Have to start somewhere… oh, look. People not completely covered in filth; ask them._

Hawke walked confidently up to a woman dressed in leather armor. She had two daggers on her back that looked deadly sharp; Hawke tried not to stare at them. Instead she made eye contact with the woman and asked, "Looking for a fellow called Tagit. Know where I can find him?"

"Who's askin'?"

"Red Iron." Hawke decided against giving her name; Meeran had said that the Iron had a reputation, so she hoped that would get her what she wanted.

The woman stiffened and pointed up a small set of stairs. _Apparently I said the right thing._

She'd pat herself on the back for it later; right now she had to get to Tagit before Carver did.

She made her way up the stairs and hid behind a convenient pillar. She looked around the edge to see a man surrounded by three armed guards. No weapons were drawn, however, so she didn't intervene. She just listened, because there was no one else up here and one of these guys—probably the dirty, unarmed one—was Tagit.

"Damesh knows yer meeting with the Red Iron, Tagit."

"Wh-what? I would never—" Tagit fumbled.

"You callin' him a liar? He _knows_ that's what yer doing down here!" One of the guards shoved Tagit to the ground.

"That's why he sent us."

"Oh Maker, please don't kill me!"

"We ain't gonna kill ya, Tagit."

"Yeah, Damesh's decided to forgive ya, so long as you do what we says."

"Anything!"

"When the Red's come 'round, you're gonna tell 'em to go to the southeast entrance at shift change."

"Tell 'em they won't meet any resistance on account of everyone bein' distracted with the switch."

"They can get in, kill Damesh, and get out before anyone's the wiser."

"But, I thought… Damesh wants them to kill him?"

"No. Moron." The guard cuffed Tagit across the head. "We're setting an ambush. Once they get in, we got a whole squad ready to take 'em down."

"Do this right and Damesh will even throw in a few sovereigns as a bonus."

"Just remember what yer supposed to say." One of the guards said.

"And then I get my gold?"

"When the Red's are dead, you get yer gold. That's the deal."

"Messer Damesh don't want no funny business. You squeal, yer dead. Got it?"

"Absolutely." Tagit nodded vigorously.

The three guards departed and left Tagit to deliver the false information to Carver and the others. _Great. A trap. Why can't it ever go smooth?_

She was tempted to confront Tagit but there wasn't a lot she could do. Was there? If she told Tagit she knew, what was to stop him from just killing her? She doubted highly that she had enough gold to buy his information. She definitely wasn't imposing enough to intimidate him.

What else could she do?

She waited—not long, as it turned out—for Carver and the others to arrive. They got their phony information from Tagit and then left. She dashed after them once Tagit's back was turned.

"Carver!"

He brother froze and turned around slowly, the fiercest glare she'd ever seen directed her way. He shoved his way past the other Red Irons and grabbed her by the arm, roughly.

"What do you think you're doing?" He hissed. "Are you following me? Do you think I am incapable of doing anything without _you_?"

"Carver—"

"What's this Carver? You're girlfriend?" One of the other lads spoke up. They had turned around to watch, laughing quietly to themselves.

"She's my sister." He told them starkly. "Meeran didn't want you for this job, we don't need you, _I_ don't need you. Go home!"

"Carver, it's a trap!"

"Hey now, what's this? What do you mean it's a trap?" One of the others said; he appeared to be the dumbest, but it was hard to tell.

"It's a trap, a set up, a ruse, a con, a ploy, a hoax; pick your term, they all mean the same thing. He lied and if you follow his instructions, you're going to die." Hawke warned.

"How do you know?" Carver asked.

"Because I got here before you did. I watched and listened as three of Damesh's guards told Tagit to trick you."

"What are we supposed to do?" One of the mercenaries asked.

"We tell Meeran." Another said. "Someone just gave us bad intel; boss needs to know."

They all nodded and headed back up to Lowtown. Hawke followed, much to Carver's continued annoyance.

"You've done what you came here to, go home." Carver whispered.

"No."

"I can do this on my own, I don't need you."

"Stop whining. I'm not going back to Gamlen's until this is settled."

"Why?"

"Because I don't trust him."

"You mean me."

"No, Carver. I trust that you will do whatever Meeran tells you to. Even if it gets you killed. I don't trust _him_ to not do just that."

Carver spent the rest of the walk fuming silently, which Hawke was thankful for. He could be upset with her all he wanted, so long as he did so quietly while in public. She's let him rant and rave when they got back to Gamlen's.

Hawke was the first one through the doors of the Hanged Man; she made her way to Meeran's table and sat down across from him. The mercenaries and Carver spread out behind her, watching with interest.

"Hawke. I don't recall calling on you for this job."

"Be glad I invited myself."

"Why should I do that?"

"Tagit betrayed us, Ser. Set us up for an ambush."

Meeran glanced at the group. "You don't looked to be injured, Tilne."

"She warned us before we could walk into it." Tilne replied.

"Oh? Are you a prophet as well as a mage?"

"No. I got to Tagit before they did and saw Damesh's guards feed him false information for your men."

"And just how did you know to look for Tagit?"

"If you don't want people to overhear what you're doing; don't hold your meeting in a tavern." Hawke said frankly.

"Interesting." Meeran smirked. "Boys, it sounds like we got ourselves a new job. No one betrays the Red Iron. Find Tagit and teach him a lesson."

A chorus of agreement rang behind her and Hawke frowned deeper. "That's it? Just go get him? Nothing in regard as to _how_? What if he isn't in Darktown anymore?"

"Get one thing in your head Girly," Meeran said, losing the smile, "I give you a job, you do it. I'm not here to hold your hand and walk you through how. You have your mission, get it done."

Without another word Hawke stood and calmly walked to the door. She left the tavern in silence and waited for Carver and the others to join her. She stared each of them down; they all agreed to her silent command that she was in charge.

She nodded and walked back toward Darktown. It was a place to start, and if the woman she asked earlier was still there, she might be able to give some answers.

A search of Darktown did not produce Tagit, so Hawke found her previous informant. "I need Tagit."

"Ain't here."

"I can see that. Where can I find him?"

"He's a servant at Damesh manor, look there."

Hawke turned on her heel and found the lift to Hightown. It put them in the Chantry courtyard, right next to the Hightown estates. Hawke took the stairs slowly. She didn't want to have to stop and catch her breath; that would make her look weak in front of the mercenaries following her.

To hide this, she asked questions. When she felt she had what she needed she approached the estate. She found a door on the west side, slipped in, and navigated her way through the servants' quarters.

She found Tagit in his room. She held up a hand to halt the eager mercenaries following her and motioned for them to wait while she went in.

"Wh-who are you? What are you doing here?" Tagit toppled over the chair he was sitting in, in his haste to stand.

"The Red Iron know you betrayed them." She tried not to feel too bad for him; he set her brother up to die; there was nothing she could do to stop the others from killing him.

But he looked so pathetic. He was sweating buckets from nerves and had started wringing his hands when she mentioned the Red Iron.

"I had no choice, you don't understand—"

"I do. Your employer found out that you were selling information the Red Iron and sent his guards to confront you. Sell out the Red Iron or die, those were your choices."

"That's right. I had to—"

"Except one of the men you sent to die is my brother."

He paled and swallowed audibly.

"So here's the deal Tagit: tell me where we can find Damesh and I'll make it quick. If you don't, I'll let them do it." She gestured to the door and the mercenaries stood menacingly in the doorway.

"But, I… You won't let me go?"

"No Tagit. You can't betray the Red Iron without paying the price. But you can choose how it's collected. Me or them."

"He's in his study waiting to hear the all clear from his guards. Most of them are in the southeast wing waiting for the ambush, but he'll have at least two with him."

"What's the quickest route to the study?" Hawke asked gently.

"Out the door, to the left, up the stairs, door in the middle."

Hawke nodded, "Thank you. Goodbye, Tagit."

She pulled a small dagger from her belt and slit his throat.

She walked out the door, turned left, went up the stairs, and stopped in front of the middle door. She gestured for Carver to be ready to open the door for her and then gathered fire.

When she nodded for him to open the door he did and jumped to the side as her fireball surged past, engulfing the wooden desk and setting aflame the four occupants of the room.

The mercenaries moved in after that and dispatched Damesh and his guards. Once they were dead, Tilne put out the fiery corpses. Carver took the signet ring off Damesh's hand and they all prepared to leave.

"We just going to leave them like this?" Hawke asked.

"Clean up's not our job. Meeran will send people to take care of it." Tilne replied.

"Fine. Let's go."

The trip back to the Hanged Man was much as the way from: silent.

Carver tossed the signet ring to Meeran and declared, "Job's done."

"And Tagit?"

"Dead." Tilne reported.

"Good." Meeran handed a small pouch to Tilne and his men.

Hawke and Carver did not get a pouch.

"I'll send for you again soon, Hawke."

Hawke left.

_**A/N cont.: **__Ok so when I was a kid we had this pastor at my church that was really funny and really clever; one of the things he used to do to get the kids to listen to his sermons was to play this game with them. He would ask for a phrase, any phrase, and then he would work it into his sermon for the next week. Often in hilarious and inventive ways._

_I want to do the same thing here. Either in a review or a personal message send me whatever phrase you want. I'll pick whichever one I like best/inspires me to write and then use it in the next chapter._

_Because I've discovered that this is often how my muse works. I'll hear or see something that will trigger my inner writer to go "Oh! Shiny!" and then I'll sit at my computer and write 10 pages in one sitting. _

_I think it'll be fun. Obvious note, if it isn't feasible for the world (i.e. modern references) then it isn't likely to get chosen, but I'm very interested to see what you guys come up with. :D_


	13. Thom the Wise

_**Author**__**'**__**s**____**Note**__:__I__delayed__a__bit__in__putting__this__one__out__because__I__was__hoping__for__a__response__to__my__idea.__Apparently__it__wasn__'__t__a__very__good__one__:(__I__'__ll__still__be__open__to__suggestions,__though.__I__remain__hopefull._

_Always, thank you to those who favorite and alert and reviews are always, always welcome! _

_**Disclaimer**__:__I__own__nothing,__BioWare__owns__all!_

The next few months were busy; Meeran gave Hawke and Carver assignment after assignment. Hawke spent a lot of her time out of Gamlen's hut: following a mark, talking to contacts, or just running around Kirkwall.

She ran as often as she could to help strengthen her lungs. She was slowly regaining her wind and hoped to have full functionality by the end of her year with the Red Iron.

Carver complained at first, but he noticed that the running was helping him too, so he stopped after a month. Aveline thought it was an excellent idea and good exercise and joined Hawke when she could.

The redhead wasn't around as often as Hawke would have liked. She missed being able to talk to her when she wanted or needed to, and it was even worse the day that Aveline told her she'd be moving out.

"It was inevitable, I suppose." Hawke murmured sadly. "And it's not like I can blame you."

"It'll be easier with one less mouth to feed." Aveline pointed out.

"So, where are you going?"

"I've been accepted to join the City Guard. I'll be in the barracks in the Viscount's Keep."

"Aveline, that's great news! Good for you."

"Thank you. It's not quiet the same as being a soldier, but I'll have purpose again. And _that_ is good."

Hawke smiled at her friend and shook her hand. "When do you start?"

"Immediately. I came to say thank you, for all you've done."

"Stop acting like I'm never going to see you again, Aveline."

"I'm a guard now, Hawke. I cannot follow you on Red Iron assignments."

Hawke scoffed, "Please, that's not the only thing I do." Her friend just stared at her. Hawke sighed. "Yeah, I didn't believe me either."

Aveline smiled, "You are doing what you must. Just as I am."

Hawke sighed and sat lightly against the back of the couch, "I just wish I felt half as good about what I'm doing."

"I admit that Meeran is not as admirable as I first believed."

"He is reckless!" Hawke snapped. "He sends his men off to do _stupidly_ dangerous missions with little to _no_ information and expects them to accomplish the nearly _impossible_ all in order to boost the Red Iron's reputation as the best _ignoring_ the fact that it is nothing more than blind _luck_ that gets his men through missions!"

"You can't discount training. A lot of his men are ex-soldiers."

"And bandits and cut throats and outright murderers." Hawke added. "There's not a single one of them I'd associate with willingly."

Aveline shook her head, "You haven't met them all."

"And I don't want to. I have no intention of doing anything with the Red Iron after this Blighted year is up."

"How much longer do you have?"

"Two hundred and fifty days."

"You're counting the days?"

"Yes. I am ready to be done with this a thousand times over."

"What about Carver? He seemed rather taken with the idea of being a mercenary."

"Carver… is Carver. I can't tell him what or what not to do, as much as I'd like too." Hawke shrugged. "Personally, I think he's more taken with the idea of belonging to something than specifically being a mercenary."

"What do you mean?"

"Carver feels like he has to constantly fight to be free of my shadow. When he joined the army he told me that he was finally going to make his own name one to be remembered, that he wouldn't have to fight to be something other than 'Temperance's little brother'. He could just be Carver."

"I see."

There was a knock on the door and a letter was slipped through. Hawke could clearly see the Red Iron seal and groaned.

"Didn't you just finish a job last night?" Leandra came out of the other room and glared at the offending parchment.

"No rest for the wicked, apparently." Hawke snagged the letter off the ground and broke the seal.

"Your brother is still recuperating from last night."

"I know, Mother," _I__'__m__the__one__who__healed__him_, she added silently. "Hopefully he won't have to come along."

With a nod, Leandra went back into the other room.

"How are _you_ doing?"

Hawke grinned, "I'm fine. The running has been helping."

"That's good." Aveline sighed. "You have a job, I should take my leave."

"Drop by sometime. It'll be good to see a friendly face once in a while."

"I'll try."

Aveline left and Hawke focused on the letter.

_Hawke,_

_Nicely done last night. I have another one for you; meet me at the Hanged Man._

_Meeran_

"Sort and sweet. Lovely." Hawke grabbed her bag and her staff and left.

The walk to the Hanged Man was a short one and Hawke sat across from Meeran, smiling inwardly when he glared at her. He didn't like it when his subordinates sat without permission, and Hawke was determined to be as big a thorn in his side as possible.

"Got your letter." She waved it at him. "Though you could have saved the ink if your man had just waited for me to answer the door."

"Talking takes too long." He said and handed her another letter.

She didn't frown or glare. She wouldn't let him win this round. She simply took the letter, leaned back, propped her feet up on the table, and lounged while she slowly opened the new letter and gave it a god long read.

It wasn't very long, as she suspected it wouldn't be, but she spent enough time looking it over to read and reread it until she had it memorized. The memorization was a bonus; the real point of this was to get a rise out of Meeran.

She disliked the man strongly and took every available opportunity to make him squirm. Like he was doing now. She smiled behind the letter for a bit. When she got her composure back, she set the letter down, offered it back to Meeran, and then left.

Poison, the letter had said. The client wanted someone poisoned and thought a bunch of brutish mercenaries were the ones to get the job done. Hawke began to seriously question the wisdom—and sanity—of the nobles of this city.

_Right,__where__would__I__get__poison?_ Hawke had never poisoned someone before, but she had done a little healing back in Lothering with her father. Some of the children in the village would occasionally stumble across deathroot and ingest it, and then it would be Malcolm Hawke to the rescue, with his two little magelets behind him.

Hawke smiled; her father found every available opportunity to teach. Even in tragedy there was a lesson to be learned and taught.

Thinking back on it, simply ingesting the deathroot wasn't really enough to kill someone. It would make them very sick for a few days, but it probably wouldn't kill them. Deathroot poison was blended with something else, or had something done to it. She didn't know what though.

She had to find someone who did.

Hawke made a sharp turn and headed to one of the nicer dwellings in Lowtown. She knocked on the door and waited. When the door opened she was greeted warmly and showed in.

"Elegant. I need a favor." Hawke said as she sat down.

"Of course, I expected you'd be back eventually." Elegant handed Hawke a small package wrapped in waxed paper.

Hawke opened the paper and found a bottle of hair oil. She opened the bottle, lifted it to her face, and inhaled lightly; the scent of vanilla and cherries filled her senses and she exhaled appreciatively. "I had forgotten how wonderful that was."

"I'm glad you like it."

"I do, but this isn't why I came."

"Oh? You have need of my other services?" The blonde raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Actually, no. I was hoping you'd have information. I need to find someone familiar with poisons." Hawke said.

"I see; this is for the Red Iron?"

"The job is, but I'm the one who's looking."

Elegant smiled at the distinction. She seemed to understand that Hawke did things her own way, and that Hawke looking for someone was not the same thing as the Red Iron looking for someone.

"In that case, I suggest you try Darktown; I have a friend there that can help you. He has a small shop near the Chantry lift. Tell him 'Elegance is the wise man's poison.' He'll know I sent you."

"Why the code?"

"What he does is illegal, Hawke. He has to know you aren't a guard or Templar."

Hawke snorted at the idea, "Right, I'm a mage, Elegant. No one would ever mistake me for a Templar."

"I don't suggest advertising that in Darktown. Many there would gladly turn you in for the reward." Elegant pointed out.

Hawke sighed. "All right, fair enough." She fished for her coin purse and pulled out some silver.

When she offered it to the blonde, she shook her head, "No need."

"Elegant…"

"We're friends, Hawke. Think of it as a gift."

Hawke smiled and nodded. She put the coins away and tucked the bottle into a pocket in her bag. She bid her friend farewell and set off to Hightown.

When she reached the Chantry courtyard she spared a glare for the huge building and then descended the steps to the lift that would take her to Darktown. She road the rickety contraption down and wished that someone would make it a little less loud.

She stepped off and looked around. Elegant said that the shop would be near the lift, so she looked carefully at every nook until she found a promising one. The elf behind the counter was quiet, but she saw that his eyes observed everything. He also look less filthy that the other nearby people, so she approached.

He had a few bottles out on his table—mostly empty—and a few dried herbs hanging from a line. A few open crates in the back revealed more bottles and jars of less readily identifiable components. Behind the crates was a small cauldron. The elf watched her as she examined his shop.

"Can I help you find something?" He said.

Hawke froze. How was she supposed to say the code? Was she just supposed to say it, no prelude? Or was she supposed to work it into the conversation. She was not good at this subtlety thing. She sighed and decided just to go for it.

"Elegance is the wise man's poison." She whispered.

The elf's face flickered with surprise, briefly, and then retained it's neutral mask. He looked Hawke over more closely, and then nodded. "What are you looking for?"

She followed him as he moved to a quieter area of the shop and replied, "I'm in need of something quiet and quick; something that is tasteless or easily masked by food or drink."

The elf nodded. "I've got just what you need, but it's not cheap."

Hawke frowned a bit. She didn't have a lot of coin and what little she did have had to buy food for her family. Gamlen still hadn't figure out how much food to get and Hawke had to supplement what he forgot.

"How much?"

He held up a small vial, "Seventy-five silver."

Hawke cringed; it was almost everything she had. "Can we work out a deal?"

He pocketed the vial, "What kind of deal?" He asked suspiciously.

"If I convince the Red Iron to contract exclusively with you, will you give me a discount?" Hawke asked.

"Wasn't aware the Red Iron had need of a mixer." He said.

"I need it for a Red Iron job; I'm sure there are others who could use the edge." Hawke suggested.

He thought on it for a bit, but eventually nodded. "If you can guarantee business, I'll deal."

"Great! I'll go talk to Meeran." Hawke smiled, and then grimaced. "I should have asked earlier; what's your name?"

"Known as Thom the Wise."

"I'm Hawke." She shook his hand. "I'll be back soon."

He nodded and went back to tending his shop.

Hawke left and dashed to the Lowtown entrance; she quickly made her way to the Hanged Man from there. She saw Meeran and paused. He would never go for it. Possibly simply because she suggested it.

She had to do something else.

She spotted Tilne at Meeran's table and got an idea. She waited until he was done talking to Meeran before approaching him.

"Tilne."

"Hawke. What are you doing here? Meeran said you were already on a job."

She frowned. "Why, you got a tough one?"

"Could be. Some merchant gone lost himself a dragonling; says he needs us to track it and get it back for him so he can deliver it to him who bought it." Tilne sounded nervous.

"A dragonling? As in a young dragon?"

"That's right. Ain't that many, but the tracks are distinctive, so tracking it should be no problem. It's getting the thing—and us—back _alive_ that's got me worried."

Hawke smiled. "Tilne, it is your lucky day."

"Really? That'd be a switch."

Hawke led him out of the Hanged Man as she explained her deal with Thom the Wise. She asked if Tilne could talk to the others and see if they'd be willing to use the mixer exclusively. He seemed agreeable to the idea and was especially grateful for the advice on how to subdue the dragonling.

"Come back to Darktown with me, and we'll talk to him together." Hawke offered.

"Aye, lead the way."

She pointed to the Darktown entrance and hurried through. Tilne followed her as she found Thom the Wise's shop again and introduced them.

"Tilne, this is Thom the Wise. Messer Wise, this is Tilne; he's Meeran's second-hand." She watched the two size the other up and then clasp forearms.

"I hereby swear that any member of the Red Iron looking for trade in poisons will contract through you from this point forth in exchange for a discount on said goods, until such a time as both parties consent to discontinue the agreement." Tilne vowed.

_Not__half__as__dumb__as__he__looks_, Hawke thought to herself, impressed.

"And I hereby swear to offer a reasonable discount to members of the Red Iron in exchange for exclusivity, until such a time as both parties consent to discontinue the agreement."

Together they sealed the agreement, "By Andraste and the Maker, we swear."

"Now we can deal." Thom the Wise said.

"Lovely." Hawke smiled. "How much for what I need?"

"I can sell it for fifty silver, no less."

It wasn't perfect, but it was better. Fifty at least gave her a little breathing room in her reserves. She reached for her pouch, but a big, calloused hand on her own stopped her.

"Let me. You saved my neck and I know Meeran doesn't pay you what he should; it's the least I can do." Tilne said.

Hawke nodded her thanks and watched as Tilne paid for her poison and a different, larger vile for his own use. He handed her the small vile and saluted his farewell.

She turned back to the elf and smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you, Thom the Wise."

"My friends call me Thomwise. You've done me a favor today, friend, thank you." He said and went back to his shop.


	14. Fading II

_**Author****'****s****Note**: Yay responses! I love responses :D I was almost done with this chapter, so the next one will have the chosen phrase. I hope you enjoy! Keep sending in suggestions!_

_Always, thank you to those who favorite and alert (there are so many of you!) and reviews are always, always welcome! _

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

With the poison from Thomwise, the job went smoothly. One of the easiest she'd ever done, in fact. She returned to Meeran, informed him the job was done, and then went back to Gamlen's hovel.

She lounged on the couch, relaxed, and allowed her mind to wander.

"You're home early." Leandra said from the doorway.

"Easy one today."

Her mother smiled at her, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Hawke asked.

"You've got your eye on someone; who is he? Not one of those brutish thugs, I hope." She moved out of the doorway and sat on the arm of the couch.

Hawke started to deny, but then stopped. She'd been thinking about Tilne and how nice he was to help her out with the job, and that maybe her remarks to Aveline earlier weren't completely true.

"I wouldn't say I have my eye on him." Hawke finally said. "More like... pleasantly surprised."

"So it is one of Meeran's men."

"His name is Tilne. He isn't bad, as far as mercenaries go."

"Tilne? That's Meeran's right hand." Carver stepped out from the bedroom. He looked a little better, but not enough that she would take him on a mission if she had one tomorrow. "I thought you hated the whole lot of them."

"I hereby amend my former statement. Instead of 'all of them', my statement now reads: 'most of them'." Hawke stuck her tongue out at Carver and then continued. "Tilne isn't bad; he actually seems… decent."

"Maybe I should meet this Tilne."

"Mother, it's not like that. I'm not courting him or anything." Hawke explained.

"Of course, dear…" Leandra's mind had clearly started wandering in the direction of marriage and grandchildren—as it always did when Hawke mentioned getting along with someone of the opposite sex—and had stopped listening to her daughter.

Determined to throw her off this awkward course, Hawke pulled out the bottle she'd gotten from Elegant and held it out to her mother. "Look at the shiny!"

"What's this?" Leandra gently took the bottle and looked at it. "Is this hair oil?"

"It is. I stopped by to see Elegant today and she gave me that." Hawke explain. "It's vanilla and—"

"Cherry." Leandra sighed happily. "Oh, I haven't had cherries since I was little. You said she gave this to you?"

"I did."

"That was very generous of her; we should thank her…"

"I can pick up some groceries and you can make her a batch of cookies if you'd like." Hawke suggested.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, but… Gamlen would never—"

"I said I'd pick it up. I have enough for a batch of cookies." Hawke said.

An hour and some determined haggling later, Hawke had everything she needed and hadn't emptied her purse. She took it all back to her mother and went to the small kitchen to heat up the stove. She placed a decent amount of logs in and then ignited them with a controlled burst of fire. Satisfied, she went and helped her mother prepare the dough.

Once the cookies were baking, Hawke cleared some space in the living area and began meditation. Once she'd gone through the basics and upped the tempo, Carver stepped in. He tossed her staff to her and grabbed his sword with a grin. Hawke smiled back and adjusted her stance.

The two sparred.

It was mostly friendly, but it was training, so when Hawke landed a blow, she'd add just the tiniest bit of lightning to make the lesson stick. When Carver landed a hit, he would use the flat of his blade, but he wouldn't hold back in strength.

It was fun, and it had been a while since Carver had offered. By the end of it, they were both sweating and sore, but smiling.

"They cookies are ready." Leandra said as her two children sat down on the couch.

"Excellent. I'll take them over." When Leandra smiled her approval Hawke jumped up and retrieved the hair oil. "After a good scrub, of course."

Leandra smiled again and assisted Hawke in heating and filling the small tub with water. Leandra gave Hawke privacy when the bath was ready and she quickly stripped off her clothes and slipped into the warm water. The tub was small and a bit cramped, but the water was warm, so Hawke didn't complain. She cleaned off the dirt and sweat and then worked the oil into her hair. When she was satisfied, she rinsed the excess and climbed out.

After she was dry, she got dressed and gathered her things and the cookies. It was getting late and she waned to catch Elegant before she stopped seeing visitors.

She made her way to Elegant's and managed to only eat one cookie. Her self-restraint was improving.

She knocked and waited for the door to open. When it did, she presented the cookies. "My mother bid me bring these as a thank you. They are wonderfully delicious."

Elegant laughed delicately and showed Hawke in. She took the cookies and set them down on the table in the living area. She invited Hawke to sit and the two chatted away as they enjoyed the cookies.

"So, did you find what you needed in Darktown?"

"Thomwise was very helpful." Hawke nodded.

"You must have left quite the impression for him to give his name on your first meeting." Elegant said.

"I set him up with an exclusive contract with the Red Iron. I don't know how often we'll use poison, but I'm hoping it's often enough to make the deal worth while for him."

"Meeran accepted a deal?" Elegant sounded very surprised.

"Not exactly. I got Tilne to agree."

Elegant nodded her approval. "That sounds far more likely. You're doing well for yourself Hawke."

"I suppose. I'll be glad when this year is finished though." Hawke admitted.

"Of course. No one expects you to enjoy being indentured to Meeran." Elegant consoled gently. "Many of us are impressed that you've taken to the job so well."

"Who is 'us'?" Hawke asked. "I thought you weren't a part of the Red Iron?"

"Indeed, I am not." Elegant replied. "And it is not of the Red Iron I speak. You have not gone without notice, Hawke. This city has eyes and ears everywhere."

"Way to make that sound sinister." Hawke rolled her eyes, but secretly she was a little nervous. "Anything I should worry about?"

"You're not under Templar scrutiny, if that is your consern."

"That is… good to hear. Thank you."

An urgent pounding at the door drowned out Elegant's response. She hurried to her feet and opened the door. As soon as she did, four men burst into the room, carrying a fifth between them. Hawke recognized them as members of the Red Iron. It took a moment to recognize him through the severe burns, but the fifth man was definitely—

"Tilne!" Hawke cried, alarmed.

"Bring him in back." Elegant snapped. "Hawke, go clear one of the beds."

She jumped to do as she was ordered; burns were not easy fixes, and Tilne had a lot of them. "What happened?"

"We was tracking a lost dragonling when we stumbled upon a nest of the buggers. Tilne pushed Syler out of the way when they started breathing fire and distracted them long enough for us to kill most of 'em and drug the last."

Elegant shooed the men from the room to give her and Hawke space to work. She told them to either wait in the main room or get out and then closed the door. When she came back over, Hawke was already calling on her magic.

_Severe__burns__along__his__right__arm__and__chest,__only__slightly__less__severe__on__his__face,__but__infection__is__already__creeping__in.__Damn!__This__isn__'__t__going__to__be__easy._"Elegant." Hawke called calmly.

"I'm here. What do you need?"

"I'm going to take care of his burns, but he has a laceration on his left thigh. I need you to take care of that for me." Hawke said as she reached for her waterskin.

She did not wait for Elegant's response, and began pouring water onto the burn on his chest and arm. Once it was damp, she began gently removing the cloth of his jerkin, adding more water along the way to keep it from sticking to the burn too much. Once that was done, she focused intently on her magic and began the healing.

She focused on the infection first—searing it clean from his system—and then she encouraged new, healthy flesh to replace the lost. It wasn't easy; burns were never easy because of infection. If she missed any, he may not survive, even with the new skin. And encouraging that much new skin to grow wasn't easy either. It wasn't like a stab wound or a cut where all she had to do was make a bridge between two healthy sections; large or severe burns required massive tissue regeneration, from skin all the way to nerves.

She did what she could with her reserves of mana slightly depleted from sparing. She coaxed and encourages until all of the affected area had new skin. He'd have a scar from his shoulder to his chest, but it was the best she could do.

Once she was done, she had enough time to stumble over to one of the other beds before she passed out.

_The clearing was quiet. _

_She sighed, resigned to the fact that she had entered the Fade without preparation again. She walked over to the clear pond and sat at its edge. Dipping her feet in, she waited and watched. She felt a presence nearby, but she didn't know how safe it would be to go and seek it out. She sensed demons nearby._

_She felt it, more than heard or saw, when the wolf entered the clearing through the trees behind her. She decided to act like she hadn't noticed his presence, but made sure not to make any sudden movements._

_She didn't remember him when she awoke last time, but as soon as she returned here, she remembered. The white wolf with the green eyes._

_He gave her a wide berth as he approached the water, never taking his eyes off her. As if he expected her to attack him._

"_You should be more concerned about them." She spoke softly, gesturing to the demons that lurked just beyond the tree line. _

_The wolf growled at her._

"_I haven't done anything to you." Hawke protested calmly._

_The wolf growled again, but he sounded less aggressive this time. Hawke took that as a sign of improvement. _

_She decided a swim sounded good and jumped into the pond. When she resurfaced she saw that the wolf had gotten wet from her splash and looked very unhappy. "Sorry."_

_He sighed and laid down next to the water, between her and the tree line. He directed his gaze to the demons lurking just beyond._

"_They can't come in here." She said following his gaze. _

_The wolf looked at her skeptically and then continued watching the trees. _

_She swam a bit closer to the edge of the pond and climbed out. Sitting next to the wolf she began to wring out her hair. "Really. They can't get beyond the trees without my express invitation."_

_The wolf looked at her again, with a look clearly stating he knew that._

"_What, you think I'm going to let them in?" Hawke crossed her arms indignantly. "What a foolish notion. I'd never make a deal with a demon."_

_The wolf sighed and went back to watching the trees._

"_If you don't believe me, why are you even here?"_

_The wolf looked sheepishly back at her and then to the trees again. He huffed annoyance and growled._

"_Better me than them." Hawke guessed. "Good to know I rank slightly higher than a demon." She pushed off the edge and plunged back into the water, not caring if she got the wolf wet._

She inhaled deeply when she awoke, as if she had been holding her breath.

"Hawke." Elegant's voice drew Hawke the rest of the way out of sleep and she opened her eyes. "Good to see you awake. You gave me a bit of a scare."

"Yeah, I do that apparently." _What__was__that__dream?__Why__can__'__t__I__remember?_ "How's Tilne?"

"He is well, but sleeping. You very probably saved his life."

"That was the idea." Hawke sat up slowly. Her whole body ached. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Less than a day." Elegant informed her. "I sent word to your family already. Your brother was… less than pleased."

Hawke wheezed out a laugh. "That sounds like an understatement."

Elegant nodded. "You should go back to sleep; you are not yet fully recovered."

"Ain't that the truth." Hawke said as she swung her legs over to the floor

"What are you doing?"

"Getting up. I can't afford to laze about; Meeran probably has a job for me." Hawke said, bracing herself to stand.

"You said it yourself, you're not ready."

"The healer in me agrees, but the rest of me has work to do." She stood and promptly fell down. "Ow…"

"I think you should listen to the healer." Elegant informed her calmly.

"You might be right." Hawke mentally kicked herself for even attempting to walk around. How long had it taken after healing Ianto? A few days? At least. "I'll give it a few minutes."

Elegant helped her back onto the bed and shook her head. "You can be very stubborn, you know that?"

"One of my many charms."

"Go to sleep or I'll slip you something to make you sleep."

Hawke sighed and nodded. She closed her eyes and prepared herself to enter the Fade before falling sound asleep.


	15. Nightingale

_**Author****'****s****Note**: Thank you all for your lovely suggestions. This week's phrase was submitted by Maddy. I am welcoming new suggestions and reviews! Shameless plug, but I have another story going: Dragon Songs, it's a series of one shots in the DA universe based on Disney songs. Is fun, and if you haven't, please check it out._

_Always, thank you to those who favorite and alert (there are so many of you!) and reviews are always, always welcome! _

_Bonus points to those who know what the title is an allusion to._

_I also want to apologize in advance if the italics don't have spaces. It has happened a couple times now, and I'm not sure how to fix it._

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!_

When she opened her eyes the room was dark, she was lying comfortably on a bed, and for a moment she thought she was back in Lothering.

But the familiar heat of Ser Pup's massive body wasn't sprawled across her legs and it wasn't the sound of early morning bickering from the twins that had roused her from sleep. She wouldn't have those ever again and she ached deeply from the loss.

She forced herself to focus and took assessment of her condition. She was uninjured, but her mana reserves were still low. If she had to, she could take a lyrium potion, but she would rather not take the hyper-sweet, syrupy concoction if it could be avoided. Meditation would help strengthen her reserves; she needed to stand to do that though.

_Worth__ a__ shot__…_ She raised herself into a seating position and paused, waiting for any dizziness or nausea. When she didn't feel any ill effects, she swung her legs over.

"Elegant said to stop you if you tried to do that again." A gruff voice said from the darkness.

Hawke nearly jumped out of her skin! Pausing to slow her elevated heart rate, she sent a glare into the darkness, "Tilne. You startled me."

"I got that from the shriek."

"I did not shriek."

"Suit yourself." He laughed.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." Hawke muttered.

A weight placed itself next to her on the bed and Tilne said from much closer, "I am. I believe I have you to thank for that."

"Elegant helped."

"She slapped on a bandaged; you did the important stuff." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "You saved my life. I have no illusions about that. Thank you."

"Don't let it happen again, yeah?" Hawke teased, nudging him slightly with her shoulder.

"No argument from me. I'll thank the Maker every day I don't see another dragonling."

"Weren't you only supposed to be tracking the one? How did run across a whole nest of them?"

"Nest is right. We were lucky the mamma dragon wasn't around or else we'd all be cooked."

"I, uh, should apologize, Tilne." Hawke said shamefully.

"What for?" He said, confusion apparent in his voice.

"I'm not the most skilled healer… you'll have a scar. A big one." Hawke gestured to his chest, but realized the motion was pointless in the dark. She summoned up the smallest amount of magic to create a light. The scar was harshly lit in the low, blue magelight that Hawke had summoned and she winced, ashamed.

"Huh. Not bad."

"What?"

"The scar. It makes me look very manly and tough, don't you think?" He jokingly started to flex to make himself look manlier.

Hawke laughed a little and dispelled the magelight. "Good thing, too. You can use all the help you can get." She teased.

"Ouch, I'll have you know that I have a stunning physique. All the ladies tell me so."

"You know, it doesn't count if you pay them."

"You, madam, are a horrible person." He laughed.

"I have my moments." She agreed. A yawn split across her face then, and she sighed. "You think Meeran will let me have the day off?"

"Oh, I might be able to convince him to take it easy for a bit." Tilne offered.

Hawke scoffed her disbelief and hopped off the cot. "That's kind of you, but I don't think it'll work."

"You should sit."

As he said it, a wave of dizziness swept Hawke nearly off her feet. She reached out a hand to grasp the bed for support but met warm skin instead. Tilne had her firmly, but gently, in his arms and let her lean against him until the dizziness passed.

She felt his chest rumble against her back as he spoke. "I told you so."

"Hmm… you're warmer than the bed." She mumbled.

He laughed quietly and Hawke smiled at the rumbliness. "You should go back to sleep, Hawke, I'll talk to Meeran." He helped her onto the bed and she wimpered at the lost warmth, but obediently curled up under the blanket and prepared herself for sleep.

When she awoke, the sun was up and it was _hot_. She still wasn't used to how much warmer the Free Marches were than Ferelden. She threw the blanket off and sprawled as much as she could on the small mattress, happily hanging her arm and leg off the side.

Elegant found her like this and laughed.

"Shuddup." Hawke grumbled. "S'hot."

"I have a bath ready for you, if you wish to make use of it." Elegant offered cheerfully.

The idea of cleaning up was very appealing. Hawke debated just rolling off the bed and crawling to the tub, but decided against it in the end. It would not be very mature, and certainly not very lady-like. Instead, she hauled herself to her feet and walked over to the washtub.

"I see you're dizziness is gone. Good. I was worried you had actually injured yourself." Elegant commented.

"No, just drained. It takes a few days to recover, but it's not so serious." Hawke stripped off her sweat soaked shirt and handed it to a waiting Elegant to wash. Her pants came next, followed by her under things. Once she was unclothed, she slipped into the water. She scrubbed until she was pink and then washed out her hair.

She took assessment of herself while she soaked. _No __more __dizziness __or__ nausea;__ I __could__ probably __get __back __to __Gamlen__'__s __now. __Mana __is __better __too. __Meditation __should __take __care __of __the __rest. __I__'__ll __be__ good __as__ new __by __tomorrow__ at __the __latest._

She stepped out and dried off. A set of clothes was folded neatly on a stool next to the tub. She put them on and walked back to the main room. Elegant was sitting in the main room on one of the couches, quietly sipping some wine.

"What time is it?" Hawke asked.

"Nearly time for dinner. Your bag is packed, and your clothes are hanging in front of the fire if you would like to go back to your family today."

Hawke walked over to her bag, picked it up, and slung it over her shoulder. "Thank you for your help."

"I'm always here to help, Hawke." Elegant said. "But I think you did most of the work this time."

"Where is Tilne?"

"He left at dawn. He said he had to report to Meeran at the Hanged Man." Elegant set her wine down on the table.

"I see." Hawke picked up her staff and her wet clothes and headed to the door. "Thanks again. I'll try not make a habit of it."

"You're welcome here any time." Elegant smiled again and gave a small wave, which she returned, on her way out the door.

The walk back to Gamlen's was fairly short and soon she was in the dark hovel again. Her mother greeted her warmly and checked her—unnecessarily—for fever or other illness. Hawke reassured Leandra that she was fine, and then set her clothes back to warming at the fireplace. Her bag went under the desk, her staff against the door, and then she began meditation.

She wasn't sure how long she had been at it before the door opened to Gamlen angrily shooing someone away.

He slammed the door behind him and sighed, annoyed, "Dancing again? You take up the whole bloody house with that foolishness."

"She isn't dancing Gamlen; she's meditating." Leandra corrected gently.

"Looks like dancing to me."

Hawke smiled and did a particularly showy finishing move before standing upright again and turning to her uncle. "Who was at the door?"

He scoffed, as she suspected he would, and held up an envelope. "Letter for you."

"Oh, uncle, you shouldn't have." She said with false sweetness. She took Meeran's letter—for it could only be from him—and opened it.

_Hawke,_

_Take the night off. Send Carver to me._

_Meeran_

She sighed, annoyed, before calling for her brother. "Carver!"

"What?"

"Your boyfriend wants you."

"_What?_"

"Honestly Temperance. Must you rile him up so?" Leandra shook her head disapprovingly.

"I'm his older sister; it's in the job description. Carver!"

He stalked out of his bedroom and snatched the letter from her hands. He read it quickly, tossed it aside, put his sword in its scabbard, and left.

Hawke laughed quietly as she gathered her things, preparing to follow.

"This says that you get the night off." Leandra waved the letter, her voice stern.

"It does indeed, however, I plan on keeping Carver out of trouble." She paused and slowly made to drop her bag, "But if you'd rather I stay here…"

"Don't let him catch you this time." Was her only response.

Hawke tipped her imaginary hat and left.

In order to avoid running into Carver, Hawke took the longer route to the Hanged Man, but she ran hoping to get there around the same time. She skidded to a stop and ducked behind a corner, looking around the edge only as much as required to see.

She watched from concealment as Carver pulled open the door and went in without a second glance at his surroundings. She'd yell at him later. For the moment she waited and watched. A few patrons came and went, no one she recognized, and when she decided enough time had passed, she left her corner and made for the door.

"This doesn't look like resting to me."

Hawke jumped and whirled around, hands raised to sling a spell or a punch—she hadn't decided—and relaxed when she saw Tilne. The smug bastard was smiling and leaning ever so casually not two feet from where she had been hiding.

Maybe she wasn't the best at checking her surroundings either.

"Tilne. I was just—"

"Spying. I know."

She huffed, "You can't really blame me."

"No, I know you want to keep your brother safe, but he's a capable lad. He can handle himself."

"It's not that I doubt his skills. I _know_ he's capable. He made it all the way back from Ostagar by himself." Hawke protested. "It's _Meeran_ I don't trust."

"A healthy distrust to have, but I have it on good authority that Carver is just doing a simple delivery." Tilne stepped forward and put a companionable arm around Hawke shoulders. "I have a better idea for how to spend the evening."

"Oh?" Hawke smirked. "And what would that be?"

"Are you familiar with Diamond Back?" She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Come yonder and I shall teach you!"

He led her away from the Hanged Man and toward the Alienage. She raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. When he knocked loudly on a door, Hawke was worried the poor thing might shatter from impact, but it held together, probably from sheer stubbornness.

The door opened to reveal an elf of moderate height; he smiled when he saw Tilne and made room for him to enter. "So you convinced her to come after all."

"There was ever any doubt?" Tilne asked, smiling.

The elf turned his gaze to Hawke and said, "Tilne told us all about how you saved his skin, and we decided you should join the game as a thank you."

"Ah." Was all she could utter before being pushed through the door. The house was small, but cozy and there was already a large group of people around the table in the main room. She recognized some of them from the Red Iron while others were complete strangers.

She waved shyly when Tilne and the elf presented her to the group. She tried to keep faces to names in her head, but she knew she would slip up. The only one she would remember was Giles, the elf.

She was given a seat next to Tilne and he coached her through a few rounds of Diamond Back. She picked it up fairly quickly, however, and he was soon able to join the game himself.

"So, Hawke, you're Ferelden, eh?" One of the Red Iron players asked.

"Assuming there's a Ferelden left. The Blight was winning last I was there." Hawke replied.

"I didn't think there were no Darkspawn left after Garahel killed the dragon." Another said.

"Yes well, you can go down there and tell them that, because I don't think they got that notice." Hawke asserted.

"Did you see any?" Giles asked.

Hawke didn't look up from her hand and didn't say anything for few moments. They were going to want details if she told them yes. She had to steel herself before she could talk about Bethany. It would not do to cry in front of these men.

"Saw them. Fought them. Killed them." She tried to keep her voice neutral, but it came out more monotone than she meant it.

"Are they as disgusting as the legends say?"

Hawke grimaced. "The smell was… overwhelming, nauseating. I can't imagine anything worse."

"Clearly you've never gotten a whiff of Meeran's feet." Tilne said which drew the laugh out of Hawke he was looking for.

It helped, a little, to laugh. She told herself that one day she would be able to think back to that moment on the hill and not want to crawl into a hole to rot. One day.

But not today.

It seemed Tilne, at least, picked up on her mood because he quickly changed the subject. He leaned more on the other men to trade some of their stories; where they were from, how they wound up in Kirkwall, war stories of both the literal and metaphorical kind. It helped hearing the men talk, and Hawke ventured in a story or two of her own occasionally.

The drinking helped too. Giles apparently had a good stock of whisky and didn't mind sharing on game nights. Hawke had never had anything stronger than watered down wine before, and one glass of whisky was enough to make the world warble a bit.

Or maybe that was her. Was she swaying?

She must have been showing some outward sign, because Tilne gave her a glass of watered down wine when she asked for a refill. She frowned at it and then at him.

He, and the other men, choked back a laugh before he said, "You'll thank me in the morning."

She stuck her tongue out at him and then drank her wine. She certainly liked the taste better, so she decided not to zap Tilne.

As the night drew to a close, Hawke decided that these were good people. She would have to tell Aveline that she had been mistaken. Not all of the Red Iron were worthy of her scorn, and that she had found friends among the mercenaries.

She would make a point of seeing the new guardswoman tomorrow, but first she had to stand up, which was proving to be more difficult than she thought it should be.

On her third attempt strong hands helped her to her feet. "You are drunk." Tilne observed.

"Probably." She agreed and laughed. She was feeling very bubbly.

"Let's get you home."

"'S not my home. Gamlen's, not mine."

"Okay, can you walk?"

He removed his hands enough for her to stand unaided, but kept them close incase she fell. She stood well enough on her own and decided to try walking. If she went slowly she could walk well enough, and demonstrated thus by walking to the door. Tilne followed her out, waving to Giles and the others as he closed the door.

She made it through the Alienage, up the first set of stairs, and almost up the second set before she tripped and fell flat on her face.

"Ow."

Tilne pulled her up and shook his head; "Two hands are better than none when it comes to breaking a fall."

She frowned, embarrassed, and winced when it hurt. She put a finger to her lip and pulled away bloody.

"Looks like a split lip, nothing serious." Tilne said as he wiped the blood away gently with his thumb.

Her heart began to race and she looked up, shyly, into his soft brown eyes. _He__'__s__ sweet; __likes __helping__ others. __Strong, __very __independent, __and __resourceful. __He__'__s __got __a __secret __though, __interesting. __Why__ haven__'__t __I__ done __this __sooner?_

Thinking back, she noticed that she had been avoiding eye contact with almost everyone since she arrived. After Meeran, she just hadn't wanted to know what the other mercenaries were like.

"Hawke," he derailed her train of thought, "I…"

She held her breath in anticipation. Did she want this? Was she even ready for this? After Dagan she was sure she wouldn't want to do this again, but there was something about Tilne that made her think it might be worth trying.

Eventually.

Tonight was not the night for it. She was drunk, her judgment compromised to say nothing of her motor skills. She fought with her conscious and eventually rational though won out.

She smiled sweetly—perhaps a bit lopsidedly—at him and placed her fingertips on his lips before he could use them. "I am very drunk, and as much as I would like to, I am going to refrain from," she gestured at the two of them, "this. At least until the floor stops spinning."

Tilne chuckled and nodded. He let out a breath and took her hand in his, leading her back to Gamlen's. At the front door he bid her goodnight and left.


	16. Worthy Tasks

**Author****'****s****Note**: I am super sorry for the delay getting this chapter out. I was a bit busy with finals and then holiday nonsense and those aren't really good excuses and writer's block is probably a more truthful reason, and I really am sorry, and I'll try to do better. My tentative plan is to get another two or three chapters out before the next semester starts, so cross your fingers.

Also, I've had some serious issues recently with italics behaving oddly when I post these, so I'm cutting back on them, hence the non-italicized A/N.

Keep those suggestions coming! I love them!

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

She fumbled with the knob for a bit before getting it open, but eventually she mastered the complicated art of opening a door and stepped inside. She tossed her bag down next to the couch, shimmied out of her leather, hopped unbalanced on one foot then the other to take off her boots, and then flopped down ungracefully on the couch, asleep before her head hit the cushion.

When she awoke she nearly vomited from the nausea and headache. She whimpered and then put one foot on the ground to keep the couch from spinning off into the sky. This helped—a lot—but it wasn't enough to make her want to move from the safety of the couch.

"You could heal yourself." Leandra offered quietly from the small kitchen area. It was still loud enough to make Hawke wince.

"I don't know what's wrong." Hawke said, slightly slurred since she didn't want to make the full effort to talk if it involved moving her head at all.

"You have a hangover." Carver stated, not at all quietly. "And a letter."

"Meeran can sodding shove his letters."

"Temperance! Language." Leandra scolded.

Hawke winced from the noise, not the words, and held her hand out for the letter. With some difficulty she opened it and read:

_Hawke,_

_Rest time is over. Be at the Hanged Man at noon._

_Meeran_

"What time is it?"

"Almost midday." Leandra said and handed Hawke a hot cup of tea. "It's willowbark. It should help with the headache enough for you to do the rest."

Hawke drank it gladly, ignoring the slightly bitter taste. Several deep breaths later, her headache was better and she healed the rest with a little magic. She jumped up, stretched, and started gathering her things.

Carver scoffed. "Must be nice."

"You know, it really is." Hawke teased. When Carver rolled his eyes, she added, "I'd do the same for you, if you asked, Carver."

When she had everything she needed, she grabbed an apple from the kitchen, and left. She munched and took her time getting to the Hanged Man, in no hurry to see Meeran. The walk was a short one, however, and she was at the tavern as the noon bell rang from the Chantry.

She plopped down in the chair across from Meeran and continued to munch. She waved cheerfully at Tilne when he came in and joined their table. She waited while three other Red Irons, including Giles, joined the table as well.

Once everyone was assembled, Meeran spoke. "Some of Fredrick's associates have been causing trouble, my sources have them at this location in an hour. Tilne: you and your team are going to shut them up for good." He handed Tilne a letter.

"That's not a lot of time." Hawke frowned. "How many people should we be expecting?"

"Never you mind, Lass. You're not on the team." Meeran said.

Hawke's frown turned into a glare. "Why not?"

"If she's not on the team, can I ask how many we should be expecting?" Giles asked.

"I have a different job for you, Hawke." Meeran said, ignoring Giles' question. He handed her a letter and gestured for her to leave.

She looked to Tilne for help, but her attention was quickly drawn back to the man sitting in front of her when he slammed his hand down, hard, on the table. "Tilne does not give you orders. I do. He does not lead the Red Iron. I do. He does not own you. _I_do! Do what I tell you, when I tell you, and if I find out you've made deals behind my back again I'll have you in the Gallows and your family on the next ship back to that Blight infested country they crawled out of! Got it?"

Then men in front of her were watching with varying degrees of shock and rage, waiting for her to do or say something. In fact, the entire Hanged Man was silent; all eyes were on her.

Furious, Hawke stood up slowly. She walked silently over to Meeran, leaned down and whispered in his ear so that no one else could hear, "You have two hundred and forty-seven days to convince me not to kill you. But if either Carver or Tilne die, nothing—not the Knight Commander nor the Maker himself—will stop me from ending you."

Then she stood up and walked away, not sparing a glance for anyone in the tavern on her way out.

She got a few feet from Gamlen's door before taking the time to calm down and get her anger under control. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and was repaid with a small shock.

She sighed, annoyed. She'd lost control of her temper and her magic. Lightning must have been dancing in her hair—which was now probably all frizzy—during her chat with Meeran. Great.

She leaned against the stair and took out Meeran's letter. If it was something simple, maybe she could help Tilne after all.

_Hawke,_

_I've an order of runes I need picked up. Find Worthy in the Hightown Market one bell after midday._

_Meeran_

"He did that on purpose. Bastard." Hawke felt the childish urge to pout, but refrained. She sighed, adjusted her bag, and then set off at a light jog to Hightown. If she was lucky, Aveline would be free to join her in one of the only non-violent assignments she'd ever been given.

Wading through the crowds in the Hightown market was always fun, but it seemed to be extra crowded today. She forged ahead, determined, and finally broke free of the mass of bodies. She checked to make sure she still had everything and then set off to the Viscount's Keep.

Looking up at it she shook her head. Did every building in this city have to be so… ostentatious? Clearly, the entire city was compensating for something. She climbed the steps and waltzed right in. The key to looking like you belonged was to act like you belonged. Generally people—guards—left you alone if you acted like you were supposed to be there.

She jogged into the barracks and looked around for Aveline. She found the red haired woman over by a post with a bunch of papers on it and smiled as she made her way over.

"Well don't you look fancy." Hawke said regarding the uniform armor her friend now wore.

"Captain Jevin will have you thrown out if he catches you here." She cautioned.

"I'll be quick. You busy?"

Aveline eyed her suspiciously. "I have no immediate patrols."

"Relax," Hawke chuckled, "I've been down-graded to delivery boy. Nothing illegal, I promise."

"Oh? From what I remember, you were doing very well in the Iron. Why the demotion?"

"Meeran has some deep seated insecurities. My guess: he has a tiny p—"

"Hawke!" Aveline chided.

"Anyway, I seem to have struck a nerve when I went to Tilne instead of him to make a deal with a contact. So now he's got me running errands."

"Most people in authority don't like it when you go behind their back."

"It was for the good of the entire company, and he would have said no simply because _I_suggested it." Hawke explained. "So, at the time, it seemed like a win-win."

Aveline laughed quietly. "So what's the job?"

"Got to find a guy named Worthy in Hightown and pick up an order of runes."

Aveline frowned, concentrating. "Worthy… the name sounds familiar."

"Why? He in the books as a smuggler or something?" Hawke joked. Then she thought about it. "He isn't, is he?"

"No, nothing like that; he was listed as a contact I think. I should be able to help you find him."

"Lovely. Let's go." She headed for the exit, Aveline by her side.

"This had better not take too long."

"It's a pick up, how long could it take?"

They jogged to the market and stopped at the top of the stairs. Hawke recalled that the district seemed crowded, but this… every noble in Kirkwall seemed to be in the market district at that exact moment.

"What in Andraste's name…?"

"It's almost solstice, Hawke. Did you not notice them on your way in?"

Hawke shrugged, "Didn't seem _this_ bad."

"Come on. Lucky for you, I know where we're going."

Aveline began making her way down the stairs and Hawke quickly followed. Her friend may have a bright head of hair, but that didn't mean she couldn't lose her in a crowd. Hawke shuddered to think what trying to find an elf or—Maker forbid—a dwarf would be like in this horde.

They were almost back to the Lowtown stairs when a loud commotion at the stall near them drew Aveline's attention. As they drew closer, a loud and angry sounding dwarf yelled obscenities at a man who was running quickly towards the Lowtown stairs.

A crowd had gathered, watching the spectacle. Aveline pushed her way through, using her guardswoman voice as much as her hands and arms. When she and Hawke got through the crowd, they saw a dwarf leaning over the body of an elven woman. She had blood covering the front of her dress from a stab wound to the chest.

Aveline snapped to action. She whistled sharply in quick succession to get the other guards' attention. When they arrived, she began giving orders to round up witnesses and start taking statements. Happily, they seemed to accept her authority, ignoring the fact that at least one of them was of a higher rank.

Hawke was already kneeling next to the elf, her back to the crowd. She gave the dwarf a pleading look, hoping he wouldn't freak out, and then placed her hands over the elf.

Dead. The knife had punctured her heart and killed her almost instantly.

She felt Aveline's hand on her shoulder. The guardswoman gestured to the elf and Hawke shook her head. There was nothing she could do for her. Aveline squeezed her shoulder and then went back to work.

"What happened?" Aveline asked the dwarf.

"So busy I didn't even notice him try to lift some of my stock. She did. Tried to stop him, got my attention when she tried to wrest them out of his hands. He pulled a dagger on her before I could stop him."

"Did you know her?"

"Not personally. She was picking up an order for Messer Reinhardt. His new… personal assistant, Elyel Allon, if I remember right." The dwarf said.

"Thank you Worthy."

"Worthy? You're Worthy?" Hawke asked.

"Most days. I'd give you Meeran's order, Hawke, but that's the one he ran off with."

"Of course it is." She muttered. She was wholly unsurprised that Worthy knew who she was. Either Meeran told him whom to expect, or Elegant was right when she told her that people were taking notice. "Did you get a good look at him?"

"Human, male. Tall, even for your kind. Black hair and beard. Didn't get much more than that."

"That's more than we had, thank you." Aveline stood and went to talk to the other guards.

"It's worth your while to track him down, lass." Worthy whispered to her.

"It might be out of my hands." Hawke said watching Aveline.

"Meeran ain't the forgiving sort. You might want to consider helping out your friend. Especially since her neck might be on the line for this too."

Hawke turned to him. "What makes you say that?"

"She watched it happen; let him escape. Captain Jevin doesn't like non-Marchers in the guard, this would be the perfect excuse to kick Mistress Aveline out." Worthy informed her.

"Do you know everyone?" Hawke drawled sarcastically. She sighed, shook her head and stood, pointedly ignoring the dwarf's smirk.

After receiving the reports from the other guards, Aveline turned to Hawke. "Not so simple after all."

"Rarely is. We going after him?"

Aveline shook her head. "You're a civilian Hawke; you can't just tag along whenever you want."

Hawke bristled with mock hurt and placed a hand over her wounded heart. "I never 'tag along'. I lead."

"Hawke…" Aveline shook her head as she headed to the stairs to Lowtown.

Hawke was quick to follow. "Come on Aveline, you need my help with this one."

"Oh is that so?"

"Yes." She skipped a few steps and stopped in front of her friend. "He's got a good head start and you don't know who he is or where he's going, _but_ you do know what he has."

Aveline raised an expectant eyebrow, apparently waiting for Hawke to finish explaining.

"Runes. A whole bag of them."

"How does that help me?"

"Help you? It doesn't. But if you were say, a mage? You could sense the lyrium, and find him that way." Hawke smiled brightly.

Aveline sighed. "You realize it's not quite as simple as that."

"I know, but it's better than nothing." Hawke smiled again, hopeful.

"Very well, let's go." Aveline said with a final sigh and kept walking.

"Lovely." Hawke strode with her friend by her side into Lowtown and frowned. "Right, so why steal a bag of runes?"

"To sell them most likely."

"There a market for that kind of thing? Not like you can just cut a hole in your weapon and stick it in there."

"There is a market for everything, Hawke, but I suppose you have a point. You'd have to have an enchanter."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's only something Tranquil can do, right? You'd have to go to the Circle to get it done."

"As far as I'm aware." Aveline put a strong hand on Hawke's arm so suddenly that she froze mid step. "Hawke look."

Aveline squatted down and pointed at a small pool of blood Hawke had been about to step in. Moving her foot, she joined her friend and looked. It was a trail. Glancing back, Hawke could see a small trail going back the way they came.

"The dagger. He hasn't dropped it."

"Yet." Aveline added. "But it gives us a place to start."

The two followed the trail, which grew ever more difficult as they neared the bazaar and more populated areas of Lowtown. Eventually, they lost the trail in the crowd.

Aveline looked around and strode purposefully to one of the shopkeepers. "Excuse me, Serah. Did you happen to see a tall, dark haired man pass by recently?"

The woman scoffed and said, "If by 'pass by' you mean shove me costumers out of his way, then yeah. Ran off in a hurry he did; lost sight of him when he passed the Hanged Man."

"Which way did he go?"

"Right."

"Thank you, Serah." Aveline put a few silver on the table and she and Hawke ran down passed the Hanged man and took a right.

"He could be headed to Darktown."

"Or the Foundries or the docks. Do you have a sense of the lyrium?"

Hawke ducked into an alcove just passed the Foundry District and took a few deep breaths. She focused on her well of magic and expanded from there. The runes weren't in the immediate vicinity, but if she focused hard enough, she believed she could find them.

There were patches of it all over Lowtown. A lot of them. More than she thought there would be. Some stronger, more pure—probably poultices—others were faint, possibly runes or magically enhanced items like the ring on Aveline's finger.

But only one of sufficient size was on the move.

Hawke exhaled. She'd been holding her breath, she realized. Taking several deep breaths, she moved forward. The world spun a little and she had a headache, but she also had a destination. "Docks. Let's go."

"Are you all right?" Her friend asked.

"That was surprisingly tiring, but I'm good." Hawke reassured her.

The guardswoman nodded and they ran to the docks. Once they got there Hawke led the way to a warehouse at the east side of the district. As they reached the top of the stairs, they saw their quarry.

Reacting instinctually, Hawke threw a small ball of force from her staff and knocked him off balance. He landed on his back and Aveline was on him before he could get back on his feet.

One steel-booted foot on his wrist that held the bloodstained dagger, and her sword at his throat Aveline stopped any resistance he may have offered before he had the chance.

"W-wait! Don't kill me! I-I have information you want." He spluttered.

"Such as?" Hawke asked walking up slowly.

"Them's that paid me, I can give 'em to you; just don't kill me."

Hawke glanced briefly at Aveline and decided to let her friend continue to be her very intimidating self and asked the questions instead. "Someone paid you to knife the elf?"

"No, just to snatch the Red Iron order."

"This one specifically?" Hawke asked surprised. "Why?"

"He didn't say; I guess he just didn't want to pay for it."

"Didn't want to… Someone from the Iron paid you?"

He nodded, almost scratching himself on Aveline's blade.

"Describe him."

"Didn't get a good look at him. It was dark, he had a hood."

"How do you know he was from the Iron?"

"Insignia on his cloak."

Hawke sighed, frustrated and angry. She was somehow unsurprised to hear Meeran had someone try to sabotage her. Hawke searched his person for the runes. She found them and relieved him of them. "Thank you kindly. He's all yours guardswoman."

"You are under arrest for the murder of Elyel Allon. Do not resist."

Aveline gave Hawke a small look of disapproval but let her take the bag. She knocked the dagger out of his hand and clapped him in irons before helping him to his feet. The redhead nodded her thanks when Hawke put the dagger in her belt for her. Aveline kept a vice-like grip on the man's arm as she brought him through the streets toward the Keep.

Hawke walked with her until they reached Hightown. "Got to talk to Worthy. You got it from here?"

"I think I can handle it. Thanks." Aveline said.

She tipped her imaginary hat and walked over to Worthy.

The dwarf applauded as she approached. "Very impressive."

"So glad you approve." Hawke set the bag on his little table. "Is this everything?"

Worthy went through the bag and nodded. "Yep, that's all of it."

"Good." Hawke winced as she thought of something. "I don't suppose this has already been paid for?"

Worthy chuckled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, but don't tell Meeran I let you off."

Hawke nodded. "Thank you Worthy."

"See you around Hawke."

Hawke ran waved as she ran off the Hanged Man. She paused in front the door to collect herself, and then walked in. She found Meeran at the same table she left him and placed the bag in front of him. Leaning in close she glared at him. "Just so you know, sabotage isn't the best way to convince me not to kill you."

She left the tavern before he could say anything and went back to Gamlen's. Angry, disgusted, and tired she just wanted to relax. She was worried about Tilne and the others, but there was nothing she could do without any information.

Instead, she prepared herself to enter the Fade, and took a nap.


	17. Gentle Invitations

**Author's Note**: Hope everyone had a safe and fun holiday season! Short note this time because my puppy is currently using one of my arms as a pillow, so I can't type very effectively.

Keep those suggestions coming! I love them!

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

An insistent pounding on the front door some hours later interrupted her nap. She groaned and rubbed her eyes debating just ignoring it and going back to sleep. Leandra, however, decided that she had had quite enough of the noise and strode over to the door. Hawke sat up enough to watch her as she opened it.

Two city guards—recognizable by their armor—stood in front of Leandra looking very annoyed. "By order of the City Guard, Temperance Hawke is to come with us immediately."

Hawke rolled off the couch and walked quickly to the door. She put a hand on her mother's shoulder to keep her from voicing any of the protests that were no doubt on her mind. She then squared her shoulders and faced the guards. "I'm Hawke—"

She was grabbed roughly by one of the guards before she could say anything more and escorted quickly away. She called back to Leandra not to worry and tried to keep pace with the guardsmen so as not to be dragged.

"Inquiring minds want to know—"

"Shut up."

"I think I have a right to know why I'm being manhandled." Hawke protested angrily.

Neither of her escorts decided to answer. As they went passed the Hanged Man, Hawke thought briefly that maybe Meeran had something to do with this. He was supposed to keep people off her back while she was working for him. Wasn't he? Or was that just Templars?

Not that the City Guard wouldn't turn her over to the Templars if they found out she was a mage. It was illegal after all.

From behind her, someone called out her name, interrupting her thought process. She turned her as much as she could with two guards holding her arms and saw Tilne exiting the Hanged Man with Giles and the rest of his team. They looked a little worse for wear, but no one was missing or seriously injured. She breathed a silent sigh of relief that they were all right before being jerked forward and led around the corner.

They were headed up to Hightown, which was good because it wasn't the Gallows, but at the same time she still had no idea why she was being brought in, and her escort didn't seem inclined to enlighten her. She thought it might have something to do with the mess earlier, but this seemed a bit rough for a witness testimony. The Red Iron would have taken care of any of the illegal activities she'd done under their orders, and she didn't think she'd done anything illegal outside of jobs for the Iron.

Other than be an apostate.

But they weren't taking her to the Gallows.

She lost her footing on the stairs up to Hightown and would have fallen if not for the hands on her upper arms. When she did start to fall, they tightened and lifted her up. She would definitely have bruises from this.

She spotted Worthy as she was led through the now almost empty market. He frowned and started whispering to one of his helpers who then dashed off. Hawke was sure she didn't wanted to be the talk of the town and hoped really hard that no one else found out about this.

Eventually they made it to the Keep and she was brought down to the barracks, through the door on the left that had been closed when she went to talk earlier with Aveline. Once inside, they sat her down on a chair facing a desk with a very angry, grey-haired man in Guardsman armor standing behind it. He looked so much like Meeran that Hawke thought for one wild moment that he _was_ Meeran. They had to be related; brothers maybe, they looked about the same age.

Standing at attention to the right of the desk was Aveline. Someone who didn't know her would say that she looked calm, but Hawke could see the anger in her eyes and the way she held herself. Something had pissed her friend off and she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it much better.

"Guardswoman Aveline's," Maker, even his voice sounded similar, "report says that you were instrumental in the apprehension of a murderer today."

He was quiet long enough that Hawke figured maybe she should say something. "Was that a question, Ser?"

"Instrumental! What she doesn't say, is _how_."

"Messer, if I have somehow offended by offering my help to the guard, I do apologize. It was not my intention to step on anyone's toes." Hawke dodged. It was obvious Aveline had left out exactly how she had found the guy, and now Aveline was clearly in trouble for protecting her.

"I want your account. Now. Start with why you were shopping in the Market with an on-duty guard."

"We weren't shopping." Hawke bristled. There was no way that was how Aveline had phrased it; this man was twisting what happened to get her friend in trouble. "I asked Aveline to accompany me because she didn't have a patrol and I missed my friend."

"If you weren't shopping, what were you doing?"

"I was picking up an order of runes."

"For whom?"

"Does it matter?"

"If it doesn't, you should have no problem telling me."

"My employer, and don't act like you don't know who I'm talking about. Can I get on with my statement?" Hawke took his glaring silence as consent and continued. "As we approached Worthy's stall, we heard a commotion and saw a man run off in the direction of Lowtown."

"Why didn't you pursue?"

"Because I was more focused on the dying elf he'd just stabbed."

"From Guardswoman Aveline's account you couldn't see the elf until after pushing your way through the crowd."

"I could smell the blood. I wanted to help."

"How? You said yourself, she was dying."

"I didn't know that until I got there!" Hawke took a few deep, calming breaths and glared at the man interrogating her. "Am I in some kind of trouble?"

"No." Everyone turned to the door as another guard entered. It was the Captain Hawke and her family had encountered their first day in Kirkwall.

"Captain Ewald." Aveline saluted.

"At ease, Guardswoman." Ewald replied. When he turned to Jeven, his expression soured. "This is how you treat friends of the Guard?"

"Friend…" Jeven spluttered angrily, "This Ferelden—"

"Helped solve a murder, but instead of thanking her, you're treating her like a suspect."

"She is a suspect!"

"Beg pardon?" Hawke squeaked.

"She knew where he was going: she is an accomplice, how else could she have known?"

"Guardsman Jeven, you are dismissed, and I will be seriously reconsidering your advancement to Captain." Ewald gestured to the door and closed it behind Jeven as he left.

"We followed the trail of blood left by the dagger he used." Hawke insisted.

"You don't have to defend yourself, Hawke," Ewald said, "You're not in any trouble. My sincerest apologies for your treatment today. On behalf of the Guard: Thank you for your assistance."

"Always willing to help." Hawke shook the hand that was offered. "Are you retiring?"

"Reassignment. I'll be taking over for Captain of the Guard in Tantervale as soon as Guardsman Jeven's training is over."

Hawke winced. "Is he really going to be the new Captain?"

Ewald nodded, "He's not my first choice, but he has friends in high places. My hands are tied."

Hawke sighed and nodded. She disliked politics and tried very hard to not get involved, which had been easy living a life on the run, but since arriving in Kirkwall… Politics seemed to be everywhere. She'd have to learn the game eventually.

"Can I go, then?"

Captain Ewald nodded, "Aveline and I will escort you home."

Hawke nodded her thanks and allowed her friend to examine her bruises as they walked. The frown that painted Aveline's face was not one Hawke ever hoped to find directed her way.

The walk was mostly quiet. It was a surprisingly comfortable silence considering Hawke had only met Captain Ewald once before, but Aveline was at ease in his presence and it carried over. Hawke wished he wasn't leaving; Jeven seemed like a much less likable person.

As they reached Gamlen's, Hawke bade the others farewell and thanked them for taking her back. She climbed the stairs quickly and opened the door. She was greeted by a lot of noise and her mother embracing her in a strong hug.

"Oh thank the Maker you're all right! I was so worried when they dragged you off like that. What happened?"

"Mother, calm down. I'm fine, I promise. They just wanted to talk."

"I've seen gentler executions." Tilne stood near the couch. He walked over when Leandra stepped aside and took her arm in his hands, examining the bruises. "This looks painful."

Hawke sighed and healed herself absently. "I'm honestly all right. One of the guards took issue with Aveline's report and brought me in for questioning."

"When we saw you being dragged, off a few of the lads feared you'd been ratted out." Tilne informed her. "You seem to have developed quite a following."

"Can I help it if I'm the most spectacular thing to have ever happened to the Iron?" Hawke joked.

"Temperance." Leandra chided half-heartedly.

Tilne gathered his bag and clasped forearms with Hawke as he bade her farewell, "Giles is having another game tomorrow night. Will we see you there?"

Hawke nodded with a smile, "If Meeran hasn't got me doing other things."

He left with a polite bow to Leandra and closed the door behind him.

"I approve."

"Mother." Hawke sighed.

"What? Is it so terrible that I want you to find someone?"

"No, but I don't even know if… if there is anything. I need his approval before I should worry about yours."

Leandra only smiled and went about fixing dinner, leaving Hawke to consider what her situation with Tilne might or might not be in peace. She resolved to talk to him about—sober—tomorrow night.

As luck had it, Meeran did not assign her anything that next day. She was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Leandra seemed very happy that neither of her children would be put in harms way for a day at least.

Carver was not so thrilled.

"Why is it that I'm never assigned any missions that don't involve you?" He ranted when, after the fourth afternoon bell rang, no letter had arrived.

"That is an exaggeration. You've done plenty of missions without me."

"Deliveries don't count! There's no action, no test of skill in deliveries."

Hawke chuckled, "No way for you to prove you're better than me, you mean."

"Both of you shut up!" Gamlen hollered from his bedroom. He was still in there, hung over from a very late night at the Hanged Man the night before.

"Terribly sorry Uncle!" Hawke teased loudly. "Are we disturbing you?"

A stream of impolite curses was all the response she got from him and she laughed quietly.

Leandra frowned at her. "You could help Gamlen, Temperance."

"I could try, but I think he might throw something at me if I opened his door. And since I don't feel a particular need to test my reflexes right now, I think I will pass."

"Please. Uncle Gamlen can't hit the broad side of a barn sober, never mind drunk." Carver said.

Hawke shh'd him.

Hawke spent her down time that day alternating between meditation, sparring with Carver, jogging around Lowtown, and being insanely bored. She wished she could splurge on a book or a dozen to keep her entertained. There was only so much exercise and training she could do before it all felt… redundant.

When a knock sounded on the door soon after dinner, Hawke jumped up and answered. She smiled broadly at Tilne and waved farewell to her family on her way out the door.

"You seemed eager to leave."

"I've been bored all day waiting for the game tonight. If I spent another minute cooped up with Carver something would end up broken. Possibly him, but probably the shack."

Tilne laughed. "Maybe it would have been better if you'd had a job today."

"Maybe." She bit her lower lip, thinking. "Do you know if Meeran has a brother?"

"Met perspective Captain Jeven, did you?" She nodded. "Yeah, I've always suspected they were related. Don't know for sure, though."

"If he's got someone in the Guard, it would explain how the Red Iron gets away with so much."

"That doesn't really speak well of the Guard, if they let personal ties interfere with doing their job." Tilne supplied with a frown.

Hawke shook her head. "It's hard to completely ignore personal feelings, and it isn't always bad."

"You mean your friend, Aveline."

"She risks her job and her life by not turning me over to the Templars."

"You aren't a blood mage or an abomination."

"As far as you know." Hawke quipped.

Tilne laughed, "Fair point."

They arrived at Giles' house in the Alienage and let themselves in. They were greeted warmly and sat down at the table after hellos were exchanged. Hawke grabbed the deck and shuffled before dealing the first round.

Hawke stuck to watered down wine this time and made a fair amount of coin by the end of the night. Enough that she believed she might be able to afford a book. Smiling and laughing, Hawke enjoyed herself. It felt good to be around people she got along with and not have to worry about the world outside for a few hours.

As the evening wound down, the cards were put away and everyone simply drank and talked. Giles recounted yesterday's events for Hawke, telling her how the friends of Fredrick were nothing more than a group of idiot nobles with few guards for protection. The fight had been fairly quick and not terribly difficult.

"Sounds like I was worried for nothing." Hawke said.

"We had no idea that's what we were up against until we got there, but yes. It was rather bland." Giles agreed.

"Especially compared to being drug off by the city guard." Tilne added. He wanted the whole story, it seemed, and now that he'd told the others, so did they.

Hawke sighed. She finished off her glass before sharing what happened with Worthy and the thief. She didn't elaborate as to how exactly she found the thief, instead offering the same reason she gave the guards. She liked these people, but that didn't mean she trusted them all. When she told them about who hired the thief, all of the Red Iron members got very angry.

"It's like he's looking for a reason to ship you back to Ferelden." Giles growled.

There was a chorus of agreement and Hawke shrugged. She didn't think Meeran would ship her back. For one thing, she was still working off a debt and Meeran didn't seem the type to let that kind of thing slide.

"That don't really explain why you were hauled off like a criminal." Another of the Iron said. She recognized him as part of Tilne's team that saw her as her escorts led her passed the Hanged Man.

She went on to tell them about Jeven and his interrogation and about Captain Ewald's eventual relocation. The news that Jeven would soon be Guard Captain went over with them about as well as it did with her.

The evening drew to a close on that happy note and everyone proffered farewells as Hawke and Tilne made their way to the door. He walked her back to Gamlen's and she sighed, looking up at the door. Reluctant to return, she leaned against the side of the stairs.

Tilne stood in front of her, close, but not close enough to block her if she wanted to leave. She smiled at the gesture.

"You're family isn't expecting you?"

"They can wait. It won't kill them."

"I'll look into who Meeran hired—"

She waved the suggestion off. "Don't. It's not important. They were jus doing what they were told."

"You're not curious?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. I know who was behind it."

"I still don't understand why he'd do that."

"Punishment maybe? Or he just likes screwing with me."

"You pissed him off to a fairly extreme degree." Tilne agreed.

"It's a talent."

They both laughed and she was happy to see some of the tension leave his shoulders. He stepped a bit closer and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You should be careful around him."

"Careful isn't any fun." She teased lightly ignoring her accelerating heart rate.

He smiled and shook his head. "Please try?"

"What do you propose I do for entertainment instead?"

He leaned down and kissed her gently, cupping her cheek in his hand. She kissed him back, enjoying the softness of his lips and the kiss. When he broke it, both were smiling.

"A persuasive argument." She said.

"I thought so."

She chuckled, "All right. I'll be careful."

He gave another kiss and they said goodnight. She climbed the stairs, giddy, and slipped into Gamlen's hovel grinning like an idiot. She silently got ready for sleep and settled onto the couch, tired but happy.


	18. Wounded pt 1

**Author's Note**: Sorry this took so long. There are about another 7 pages that I have written that were supposed to be a part of this chapter, but they aren't ready and it's been a while and this section is already nine pages, so I decided to go ahead and post. Sorry, again, for the delay.

Keep those suggestions coming! I love them!

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

Her mood didn't last however as over the next several weeks she hardly saw Tilne. Either she was on mission or he was and it seemed they had no free time to share so much as a glance let alone something more.

Her assignments were not simple deliveries, either. They were getting harder and there were several close calls where she narrowly escaped either the law or severe injury or both.

Half way through the second month of this, Hawke had had enough. She was going to kick Meeran's sorry ass up between his ears if she was sent on one more Blighted assignment without at least talking to Tilne. She would have taken more direct action, but she didn't actually know where he lived.

No one she asked did, apparently. Not even Giles. She figured Meeran knew, though. How else would he send his precious notes? Not that he would tell her if she asked.

Frustration made her want to scream, but that was childish. She would not indulge those impulses, however much she desired to. She felt like she had a build up of energy, too; she had to find some way to release it or she would smite lightning down on the next fool who looked at her wrong. When she was on mission it wasn't as bad—there she actually _could_ smite lighting at fools, but when she was at Gamlen's or trying (and failing) to relax at the Hanged Man, she just felt… strained.

It had gotten so bad that even Carver avoided earning her ire.

One afternoon after another close call, she was working off frustration by meditating when a knock sounded at the door. Uninterested in doing another job so soon, she ignored it. Carver gave her a wide berth as he came through the living room to answer the door.

She tuned out whatever was being said and focused on meditation, doing the most complicated set she knew in order to ease the tension inside. She did not expect a firm, gauntleted hand to grasp her shoulder and pull her out of her concentration. Instinctually she reacted, whirling out with a kick aimed for the midsection of her attacker, but Aveline caught her boot and waited for recognition in Hawke's face before letting her go.

"It seems Carver was right."

Hawke glared at her brother before looking back at Aveline, "About what?"

"You're on edge." He accused. "And you're not in control of your magic."

"Bollocks."

"Hawke," Aveline sighed, "I can see the lightning in your hair."

She quickly tried to smooth out her hair and shoo away the lightning, slightly embarrassed. She took several deep calming breaths, trying to get her heart rate down after exercise, shaking and stretching out her limbs to keep them from cramping.

Her friend sighed again and gestured to the front door. "Lets go for a run, shall we?"

Hawke nodded. Exercise was good; movement was good. Kept her mind off everything.

The two left Gamlen's and Aveline set the pace at an easy jog. The first fifteen minutes were silent, with just the sounds of the city to fill the empty. As those sounds faded and were replaced by the sounds of the sea, Hawke looked around. She had just been following Aveline and wasn't paying attention to where they were going, but as she looked around, she saw that they were on the outskirts of the city, near the coast.

"Why are we here?" She asked, stopping to look out at the Waking Sea.

Aveline stopped as well and turned to look at the Sea. "We haven't had the chance to talk much since I joined the guard."

That wasn't really an answer. If she had wanted to talk she could have done it at Gamlen's or the Hanged Man. She had brought them away from the city, away from people, for a reason. When Hawke pointed this out, Aveline nodded, almost absently.

"So why here?"

"Like you observed: there is no one here but us. You can talk freely and not worry about anyone overhearing."

Hawke crossed her arms over her chest and looked seriously at her friend. "It sounds like you have a topic in mind already."

Aveline sat on a nearby rock and nodded. "You never got the chance to tell me what happened on the _Hawk's Flight_."

"A mistake." Hawke said bluntly.

Aveline seemed to think over what to say next, weighing options and possible scenarios. She probably had a good guess as to what happened, but Hawke had the sneaking suspicion that she was going to make her say it anyway.

Hawke sighed and sat down on the edge of the cliff overlooking the Sea. "Yes, I slept with him."

Aveline nodded, unsurprised by the admission. "Was he your first?"

"He was."

"What happened?" Hawke looked over her shoulder to give a snarky reply, but Aveline held up her hand and added, "After. What happened after?"

Hawke laid back on the ground with her legs dangling over the edge and sighed. "He left. Stole away like a thief while I was sleeping and didn't come back. Probably hid up in the crows nest when I got off the ship."

"He didn't seem the type to do something so…"

"Dickish?" Hawke supplied. "I know. I wouldn't have done it if I thought that would be his reaction."

"You seemed particularly upset when I came to get you from the cabin."

"I was."

"Yet, you sound very calm talking about it now."

"It's been months Aveline. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Especially now that you have Tilne?"

Hawke sighed, suddenly very frustrated. "Do I? I haven't seen him in weeks!"

"You'll have to forgive my bluntness, but did you—"

"Sleep with him? No." Wistfully, she added. "Just a kiss."

"And you haven't seen him since."

"No." They both grew silent. Hawke hadn't been sure why Aveline wanted to talk about Dagan, but she groaned when she made the connection Aveline had obviously made. "You think I'm overly tense and agitated because I'm worried that Tilne will be like Vergas."

"It isn't an unreasonable parallel."

Hawke sat up and got to her feet. She came over and sat down on an adjacent rock next to her friend and hung her head. "I'm worried. More than just what that kiss may have meant. I like him a lot, but I'm worried that I don't really know him. That no one seems to really know him."

"What do you mean?"

"No one seems to know where he lives or what his family name is. He's just Tilne. No one's even sure what his history is: where he's from, where he got his training, how he joined the Red Iron. It's one big mystery."

"Interesting." Aveline frowned. "That extensive, he has to be keeping it secret on purpose."

"I know, but he's also one of the nicest guys I've met and funny and smart."

"You're swooning."

"I've accepted this fact and try not to let it consume my every thought." Hawke told her unashamedly.

Aveline laughed quietly before quickly turning back to the matter at hand. "When did you start asking people about him?"

"When Meeran did everything in his power to keep us from speaking. One or both of us is constantly on mission and we're never assigned to work together. I planned on tracking him down and talking to him, but no one seemed to know where I could find him."

Aveline seemed to think carefully about whatever it was she wanted to say before finally asking, "Does it bother you that he hasn't come to you? He obviously knows where you live."

"Yeah, I've thought about that. I want to believe he has a good reason, but like I said: I'm starting to think I don't really know him."

Aveline put a comforting hand on Hawke's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Do you feel better talking about it?"

"I'd feel better talking about it with Tilne, but yes. This was good. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

As nice as the view was, Hawke was getting uncomfortably hot in the sun and imagined that Aveline must be ten times worse in all that armor she was wearing. Hawke suggested they get back to the shade that the city walls provided and the two set off. Aveline dropped Hawke off at Gamlen's and then returned to the barracks.

She did feel a bit better having talked about it, but she was still worried.

The next day she and Carver were summoned to the Hanged Man and informed about a special job that they would be doing. An escort job. They were to guide a rich dwarven merchant through the Wounded Coast to a smaller port village about a week away from Kirkwall. It was going to be dangerous; the merchant had hired them because bandits were known to hit traveler's along the route they were taking and he expected one of the rival families of the Merchant's Guild to cause additional trouble along the way.

It was more details than she usually received before a mission, but she wasn't going to complain about that. The time did bother her though. There and back, assuming no delays, would take two _weeks_, and she wasn't naïve enough to think that there wouldn't be delays. It was why they were hired.

Thankfully, the dwarf didn't expect them to outfit themselves without compensation. He went over Meeran's head and handed out a coin purse to each member of the team. It was enough for them to buy provisions for the trip and maybe a few supplies they didn't already have if they could haggle a bit.

For Hawke and Carver it was more than enough for them to buy adequate food for the both of them and a pair of bedrolls. Kirkwall was significantly warmer than Ferelden and neither cherished the idea of spending the night in a stuffy tent. Hawke would be able to keep the bugs and other vermin away at night with a simple spell her father had taught her years ago.

The rest of the two purses went to Leandra. Hawke advised her to keep it away from Gamlen.

Their mother was upset that both her children would be leaving on this trip and she tried to convince Hawke to let Carver stay, but it was out of her hands.

"Mother, if it were up to me, Carver would stay here—"

"Thanks for that."

"But it isn't." She ignored Carver. "Meeran wants both of us to go and so both of us it is."

"Be safe, please. Bring him home." She ordered through tears.

Hawke nodded and waited outside as Leandra gave Carver a hug goodbye. When her brother closed the door, they set off to the rendezvous to join the rest of the team. They were not the first to arrive; Giles was relaxing on the merchant's cart when Hawke and Carver arrived. She smiled and headed over, glad that someone she knew would be going on this trek.

"Looks like we'll have a group for Diamond Back after all." He said brightly as she shook his hand.

"Two people hardly make for a good game."

The elf shook his head. "Half of Tilne's crew is on this mission, Hawke."

"Why?" She frowned, confused.

"He ordered it, Hawke." Corwin, one of the other men, said. She recognized him from the games. "What's us to look out for you; make sure you don't get yourself dead."

"I'm touched." She rolled her eyes. Giles chuckled. "Doesn't he need the other half of his team? _I_ can heal myself."

"Orders is orders." Corwin shrugged.

Hawke joined Giles on the cart and waited for the others to arrive. Once everyone was assembled, Hawke saw that Giles hadn't exaggerated. All of the Red Irons from the Diamond Back game were here.

She frowned, a little perturbed that Tilne thought she needed so much help.

"Why the unhappy face?" Giles asked.

"If he was so concerned, why didn't he come himself?"

"He would if he could." Giles placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Meeran assigned him other jobs."

Hawke sighed. "Of course."

She didn't get the chance to continue the conversation as the merchant, Borin, rounded up the mercenaries and started for the city gate. She followed obediently behind the cart. Carver took a position near the front, which was fine by Hawke. Two plus weeks in his constant presence was going to be a strain on her patience, the further apart they were, the better. Giles and Corwin remained by her side to offer what company and conversation they could.

The journey to the Wounded Coast wasn't very taxing. The path was wide and well traveled. It wasn't until a few hours out of the city that the terrain got uneven. After the fourth time the team had to lift the cart over or out of some obstacle, Hawke began to think the real reason the merchant bought a team of mercenaries was for manual labor.

When she mentioned this to Giles and Corwin they laughed and Corwin informed her, "You can't trust a dwarf as far as you can toss him."

"Which isn't far considering all the ale soaked into his person." Giles added.

Hawke secretly had to admit they might be right, at least about Borin. The stench of ale reached her all the way back here; she desired the ability to change the wind.

The end of the first day came at last and Borin ordered them to set camp. Carver went about picking a spot for their bedrolls as Hawke started a fire. It was routine whenever the family had to travel, Carver and Leandra would set up tents and Hawke, Bethany, and Malcolm would prepare the fire, food, and protection spells.

She smiled a little when Carver picked up the ritual without hesitation.

Giles placed his bedroll near the fire Hawke was building and a few of the others soon followed. Hawke had a respectable fire going in no time and soon the men from the Diamond Back game were all gathered around it.

"Why don't any of you have tents?" Hawke asked.

"Not worth the struggle of getting out of one in a hurry." Corwin said simply.

Hawke nodded, it made sense.

Food and drink was consumed as the group settled into a game of Diamond Back; even Carver joined. It was friendly and certainly made Hawke believe the trip would be bearable.

The next several days proceeded without incident. Hawke began to doubt the supposed threat of bandits, but maybe it was just the size of the group that dissuaded attack? Whatever the reason, Hawke was glad for the rest in bloodshed. Far too many of her missions lately had been excessively bloody.

Nearing the end of day five, however, Hawke began to grow… uneasy. She couldn't shake the feeling of malicious eyes on her back, and she grew increasingly twitchy—jumping at every snapped twig or shifting rock.

"You feel it too?" Giles whispered.

She nodded. Something was out there. Signaling Giles and the other men to ready weapons, she made her way to the front of the caravan to find Borin. She caught Carver's eye as she made her way to the dwarf and he nodded, understanding.

"Messere," she began quietly, "we are not alone."

Apparently deciding that their cover had been blown—or just due to an extreme sense of dramatic timing—the bandits that had surrounded the caravan jumped out of hiding at that moment. Weapons drawn, they advanced on the group quickly, offering no chance for discussion or surrender.

Hawke shoved the dwarf unceremoniously under the cart as the rest of her men drew their weapons. She pulled her staff out of the cart and joined the fray as soon as her employer hit the dirt, though she used it as a bludgeoning object rather than focusing her magic through it. If she had to, she would, but she didn't have any lyrium potions with her, and she was more inclined to reserve her mana for healing the injured.

Not that there were any.

Once the battle was over, she looked around and took stock of her men. Nothing beyond minor injuries easily taken care of with bandages. The bandits had not been ready for this many experienced mercenaries used to working together.

She noticed that Giles was doing the same checks that she was and walked over. "I was beginning to think the rumors were wrong."

"Aye. That though had crossed my mind."

A shuffling sound followed by a string of curses brought her attention back to Borin as he crawled his way out from under the car. He didn't look pleased. He scanned the area quickly, then, spotting Hawke, stormed over. "Sodding woman! What made you do a fool thing like that? This"—he gestured to his now dirt-covered tunic—"cost ten sovereigns!"

"Then you paid too much." Hawke snickered.

The dwarf looked like he was about to have an apoplexy as he stuttered over his words. Giles intervened diplomatically, "Messere, Hawke may have been a tad overzealous, but she saved your life."

Borin stopped sputtering long enough to look in the direction Giles was pointing. There were, in fact, a few arrows embedded in the cart where Borin had been standing. Hawke hadn't even noticed until Giles pointed them out.

Grumbling something about excitable women and proper mercenaries, Borin shuffled off toward the front of the cart without an apology or thank you. Hawke shrugged. If he didn't want her on this mission he should have said something five days ago.


	19. Wounded pt 2

**Author's Note**: Yay! Quick update!

Hokay, sorry about the split chapter, I wasn't quite satisfied with this one last time. I apologize in advance, there is an italics section in this chapter, if it doesn't space properly I'm really sorry. I don't know why it does that and believe me I wish it wouldn't.

Last chapter I used karu0792's suggestion and didn't give credit. I'm super sorry :( Thank you for the suggestion!

Keep those suggestions coming! I love them!

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

The caravan started moving again in short order, not giving Carver a lot of time to go through the pockets of the dead, but, with the added hands, the revenue building was still moderately successful. It was done out of sight of their employer, however, so as not to insult his delicate sensibilities.

The promise of camp was not too far off when the caravan was attacked again. There was much less warning this time, Hawke guessed they must have been lying in wait rather than following like the previous group had, and had it not been for Tilne's men, this scuffle would not have gone in their favor. Giles, especially, was very fast. He had his blades out and was on the first bandit before Hawke could finish sounding the alarm.

Staff still in hand from the last fight, Hawke swung it in a low, wide arc at the brute approaching her, successfully connecting with the side of his knee. He stumbled, but didn't fall. Glancing warily at her staff, he pulled the massive greatsword off his back, opting for a bit of reach instead of simply tackling her. Hawke thanked Carver every second of the ensuing struggle for the sparring practices they engaged in; she would not have been able to hold him off otherwise. Even as it was, she almost couldn't keep up. He was bloody quick with that thing! Seeing an opening after what seemed like hours, she went for a blow to his ribs, but he swung mightily with his sword and with a sickening snicker-snack, her staff was cut in twain. The brute grinned smugly and began to advance again. Left with no other option, Hawke hurled lightning at him, hoping that she could end this without expending too much mana. Fortunately, the bolt temporarily stunned her attacker, and she used the opportunity to drive the pointed edge of her broken staff into his exposed neck. The warm blood flooded over her hands and she quickly let go. She desired nothing more in that moment than to find the nearest source of water to remove the blood, but the battle still raged.

She moved quickly to assist Corwin, who had three men attacking him. Without a physical weapon, she had to use her magic. She called forth a swath of ice to impale or unbalance them, killing one outright and giving Corwin the advantage to finish the other two. With a nod of thanks he moved on to help one of the other Iron members and Hawke went to find her brother.

Carver was holding his own against two assailants, but a third was coming at him from behind. Deciding that such foolery was not to be allowed, Hawke zapped the rogue causing him to lose his footing on the uneven terrain and tumble downhill into a few of his fellows, unbalancing them and ending in a tangled pile at Giles' feet. Sure that the elf could handle his gift, Hawke turned focus back to her brother. Carver remained none the wiser and dispatched his enemies soon after. Turning to engage his next target, he caught sight of his sister and moved to stand at her side.

"Where is your staff?" He bellowed over the sound of fighting.

She pointed at what remained of her staff in way of response, declining to spend any necessary air talking. The running had certainly helped build her stamina, but she was getting winded and the fighting wasn't over yet. Carver winced but at the same time looked impressed. She wasn't sure how he managed both expressions, but she couldn't afford to spend too much time contemplating it now.

Shouts from the bandits indicated that someone had noticed her magic usage and the battle suddenly became a game of find and stab the mage. Carver cursed and bellowed a war cry as he dove into the fray again. There were still a good number of bandits—though Hawke was beginning to doubt that they were actually bandits—and she was making herself a rather obvious target by standing in plain view. She ducked behind the cart, wishing she had a staff. She was in no shape to improvise, so without a focus for basic attacks, she'd have to rely on spell slinging alone.

"Figures you'd be a sodding mage." Grumbled a voice.

Confused, she glanced around, eventually looking under the cart itself to find her employer. She mused briefly whether or not to tease him about his precious tunic, but decided against it. He seemed to be having a bad enough day.

"You thought I was here just to look pretty?" Okay, so she couldn't resist a little teasing.

He continued to grumble and she ignored him, returning her attention to the task at hand. Leaning out of her hiding spot, she shot another bolt of lightning followed by more ice, targeting people on opposite sides of the field to hopefully keep them guessing at her location.

Just judging by her own injuries, she was going to need to do some healing after this was over. She couldn't afford to waste a lot of mana fending off bandits, but she couldn't just sit here and make the others do all the work. She leaned out again to check how things are going. Only a few more bandits were left and they weren't going to last long with her people surrounding them.

She stepped out of cover and walked over. "Keep one alive." She ordered.

They did as they were told and stripped the last man of his weapons and forced to his knees. Hawke walked over and knelt down on one knee next to him. "Who hired you?"

"They're bandits, Hawke." Corwin said. He was sporting a gash on his arm, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

"No," Giles said, "they're too well equipped just to be bandits."

"Who hired you?" She repeated.

The man spat in her face. "Witch."

Hawke sighed. She was truly tired of that response. She grabbed his ear in a firm grip and yanked lightly. It was a painful experience, but not permanent. She used it strictly to get his attention.

When she had his focus, she spoke again. "Either you answer my very simple question, or I rip your ear off."

He eyed her warily, apparently trying to judge whether or not she was bluffing. When he took too long, she braced her other hand against his head and adjusted her grip on his ear for a stronger hold. He caved before she actually had to apply any pressure.

"Tigemo! It was Tigemo!"

By the string of gruff curses behind her, she guessed this was a name familiar to her employer. "Do you have proof?"

He shook his head and Hawke sighed. Without proof of contract, she couldn't bring it to the authorities. Tigemo was obviously well connected and probably wealthy; the word of a bandit would not hold weight.

She released his ear and stood. "Let him go."

Borin objected loudly, but everyone ignored him. The bandit was released and the Irons assembled in front of Hawke for inspection. Thankfully, no one had very serious wound. Lacerations abounded, but nothing she couldn't handle. At the end of the healing session, she was exhausted, but not unconscious. She climbed into the cart for the remainder of the day.

When it was time to set camp, the others did everything, leaving her to do the simple enchantment that kept the bugs and vermin away. It took longer than normal, but when it was done the fire was going and dinner was roasting. Giles passed her dinner when it was ready and she ate greedily. After a second and then a third helping, she was satisfied and crawled onto her bedroll, asleep in moments.

_The wolf was not there. _

_At first she was surprised at his absence, then she was surprised that she expected him. Standing in the small clearing the memories from this place drifted across her mind as if they had never left. She raged briefly at the fickle nature of the Fade, but quickly calmed herself. The Fade was not a place to let emotions run wild._

_So she waited._

_A rustle in the trees drew her attention. As she watched a fox stumbled his way into the clearing. He faced the tree line as he backed towards her, a low growl resonating in his chest. He was a bit larger than the foxes she had seen before, and his fur was a bit darker, but there was no mistaking him for anything else. _

"_What are you growling at?" She asked._

_He didn't answer; instead he launched himself at the approaching shade, falling into the forest again. The sound of a struggle and much snarling put her on her feet and moving towards the trees. If she left, she would be in danger of encountering a demon, but she wanted to help the fox. Before she could get to the trees, the fox limped back into the clearing, a satisfied if pained expression on his face._

_He collapsed at her feet. _

"_That was very foolish," she scolded. "Brave, but foolish. I could have handled it."_

_The fox yipped at her, sounding very much like he was laughing. _

_She shook her head and knelt down to examine him. He was badly hurt, but not anything she couldn't heal. She readied herself, but before she could begin—_

She awoke.

She was confused at first, not remembering where she was, but as the sounds of a camp being stripped filtered into her ears, she remembered. With a groan she got up and started taking care of her own section of camp. Once she'd taken care of that—and herself—she placed her pack in the cart and found Giles. She had a sense of urgency she couldn't quiet explain. She wanted this jaunt to be over with.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." He teased.

She pushed the urgency to the back of her mind as a simple dislike for the Wounded Coast. She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. "It's your own sodding fault for getting injured."

"Tsk, tsk. You're learning bad words."

"I could use an Andrastian curse, but I try to save the blaspheming until after breakfast."

Said breakfast was handed to her by way of dried fruit and warmed bread. She ate it slowly as she walked, fruit in one hand, bread in the other.

"You're mobile? I expected you to be unconscious." Carver commented.

"I didn't _completely_ tax myself."

"Just mostly."

"Big difference." She said seriously. Carver rolled his eyes and moved to the head of the caravan.

She yawned heavily and glanced wistfully at the cart. Maybe she should ride instead of walk. Just for the morning. She was still rather tired.

"Where's your staff?" Giles asked.

"Cleft in twain, rather impolitely, I might add."

"We'll have to get you a new one."

"I don't see that happening, unless we're attacked by a mage."

"Maker, I hope not." Corwin muttered. There was a chorus of agreement from the men. Hawke kept silent, but agreed. She was not up to another fight just yet, and certainly not one against another mage.

To change the subject, she turned again to Giles, "So did Borin share anything about this Tigemo?"

"Only that he's from a rival family. He wouldn't say anything other than that."

"Helpful." Hawke rolled her eyes. She finished her meal and focused on the job, trying to be alert for anything out of place. She couldn't wait for this journey to be over.

Two days and four skirmishes later, the town of Glenmore welcomed them. They dropped off their merchant at his destination, accepted their coin, and readied for the trip back. They restocked and rented a few rooms for the night, prepared to set out in the morning. The longer she lingered in the city, the stronger the urge to leave became, but the group needed the rest.

She welcomed the thought of a bed. It wasn't the best bed, but it was better than the ground. She was forced to share a room with Carver, but she refused to let that spoil her mood. She flopped down on the bed and instructed Carver not to wake her until morning.

When she woke the next morning Carver was already downstairs for breakfast, and there was a tub of hot water waiting for her. She practically squealed in delight and quickly got undressed and in the bath.

One vigorous scrub and long soak later, she gathered her things and met everyone downstairs. Giles met her at the base of the stairs and surprised her with a new staff, handing it to her with a graceful bow.

"Where did you get this?" She asked, examining it. It was better than the one she had lost.

"I have my ways." He evaded.

She smiled. "Thank you."

"Really, it's for our benefit." Corwin said. "Now you can actually do something if we get attacked."

She flicked him on the forehead, but otherwise ignored his jest.

Once breakfast was over, everything was packed, and everyone assembled, they headed out. The trip back would hopefully be less exciting that the one here, but bandits were still a concern, even without a cart to entice them.

The staff worked well, she discovered. The trip to Kirkwall saw three bandit attacks: Small, quick encounters that didn't lead to any major injuries. She silently thanked Andraste for that. She was recuperating, but she wouldn't have been able to heal anything more severe than a superficial cut for most of the journey.

Once they were in the city again, most of the Irons departed, headed to their own homes and beds. Giles walked Hawke—and by default, Carver—to Gamlen's. Carver went in right away, leaving them to say goodbye.

"We'll see you at the game tomorrow night?"

"If I'm not doing something else." She agreed and clasped his forearm. She hesitated, but quickly asked before he turned away, "If you see Tilne before I do…"

"I'll send him your way, don't worry."

With a nod of thanks she walked up the stairs to Gamlen's and went in. Her mother greeted her warmly and thanked her for bringing Carver home undamaged. Hawke smiled and quipped that it was nothing. Leandra set about to making dinner and left Hawke to her own devices.

Deciding that selling the loot that she and Carver had acquired could wait until a full night's rest, she settled down to relax for an evening.

"A message came for you." Gamlen grumbled.

"What? When? I just got back today!" Angry that Meeran would expect her to have returned so soon, she got up and tore open the offered letter. She read it, stopped, and read it again more carefully—heart in her throat.

"What's wrong?" Carver asked.

"When did this arrive?" She asked her uncle.

He shrugged, unconcerned. "More than a week?"

"What's wrong?" Carver asked again.

"I have to go."

"Temperance!" Leandra called, concerned, as Hawke bolted out the door.

She ignored her and Carver, making her way quickly through Lowtown. She took mental stock. She had a good reserve built up, it would have been better if she'd had time for meditation, but there hadn't been an opportunity on the road. She hoped that what she had would be enough, and given the amount of time since the letter was sent, it probably would be, but that didn't stop her from worrying.

She burst through Elegant's door and skidded to a stop.

What she saw was certainly not what she expected.

The first thing she noticed was that Tilne was alive and well. The letter had said that he hand been gravely injured on mission and was sent to Elegant for healing. Her friend had asked for her assistance, not realizing that she had been sent away. It looked like she had managed without her, though, as Tilne looked to be in fine health, if still sporting a few bandages.

The next thing she noticed seemed normal at first. Elegant was sitting demurely on the couch (normal), next to Tilne (not unreasonable), holding her delicate hands affectionately in his strong ones (decidedly _not_ normal).

She would have spent much more time considering the implications of _that_, if it weren't for the nobleman standing not far away from Tilne. One look at him and the pieces of the Tilne puzzle clicked into place. This nobleman was clearly his father. The man could have been a look into Tilne's future they looked so much alike. Tilne was the son of a Lord and had kept it from his men and from his friends.

Stunned silence greeted her appearance. Before anyone could say anything, Hawke made her escape, muttering awkward apologies. She bolted, not really sure where she was going. She stopped in front of a familiar door: The Hanged Man. She went in.

She was going to get very, very drunk.


	20. Felicitations

**Author's Note**: I tried to get this out yesterday so that I could say I had three in one month, but sadly, I got distracted. :(

My goal is to get three in one month this month, which may or may not happen, but that's the goal!

Keep those suggestions coming! I love them!

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D

Also, I've got a new story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

Three glasses of whiskey later, she was admiring the way the world tilted. She was in a corner of the bar at a table to herself watching the other patrons. They were oblivious to her and she liked that. She was incog… incognemo… incogneato? She was drunk.

She rested her head on the table and looked at the world sideways. The tilting and whirling increased and she giggled. An altogether strange sound, she decided, considering she was utterly miserable. Not that _that_ made much sense. It's not like she'd done anything besides kiss the man. They hadn't even talked after! What if this was her fault? What if he thought she'd been avoiding him? She shook her head—an odd function considering it was on a table—she had looked for him. She hadn't been able to find him. Because of his father.

She wondered briefly if she should go to Giles and tell him about Tilne's Lord father. The elf might find it interesting—Maker, she certainly did—but would Tilne want her to tell him? He kept it secret for a reason, right? Was Tilne hiding because of his father, or was his father the one hiding him?

Thinking about Tilne made her want to bang her head against the table. What had happened? Was she insane for thinking there was something between them? He'd sent half his squad with her to make sure she was safe; that had to mean something.

She groaned. He'd sent half his squad and gotten hurt because of it. And who's the go-to person for the Red Iron when someone is injured? Elegant.

She couldn't blame Elegant. Her friend probably didn't even realize that she and Tilne were… Were what? Were they anything? It was a kiss. She would certainly have liked it to be something more, but…

That's really what it came down to. She had no idea how Tilne felt. If he wanted anything more. She had hoped, but maybe it had been wishful thinking. She wasn't sure which was worse. That Tilne had wanted something and went with Elegant anyway, or that she had made the whole thing up in her mind.

Maybe she should talk to him. Be an adult and confront him about what was bothering her.

Or.

She could drink more. Yes, that sounded like a much better plan. Less humiliation that way. She drained her glass and ordered another.

Another two glasses later and her whole body felt very heavy. Lifting her glass to her mouth was such an effort, but a very tasty effort. Once it was empty she allowed her arms to rest on the table. Her head too. It was a really comfy table.

"So this is where you went in such a hurry."

"Shut up Carver." Over course, with the effort required to move her mouth, it came out, "Shhp, Vr."

"Just how many have you had?" He asked lifting one of her empty mugs to his nose and wincing.

She shrugged, which took a monumental effort, and tried counting. She lost track at three.

Strong arms lifted her up and she was forced to consider the benefits and drawbacks to vomiting as the world lost solid direction. She decided that vomiting would probably end badly considering Carver was directly in her path and so forced herself not to. While she was focusing on that, her brother tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the door.

This very undignified form of travel also had the downside of turning the world upside down and she had to try even harder to keep from retching. She was not really succeeding and she could tell that she was about to let loose. She must have groaned appropriately because Carver promptly let her down and aimed her away from his person. She emptied the contents of her stomach and felt marginally better. Less likely to vomit again anyway.

"Can you walk?"

She nodded and hobbled along next to her brother. She was slow, but she was moving on her own. She took that as a good sign. One foot in front of the other, and if she watched them, her feet were far more likely to do just that.

"Tempy…" Carver said quietly.

"Shh!" She frowned, stumbling a bit. "You're throwing off my concentration."

She vaguely registered the sound of his sword being drawn as probably important, but she was too busy making sure her feet were doing as they were told to connect the important dots.

"Stop looking at your feet and pay attention."

Frustrated, she glared up at him. Finally noticing that he had his weapon at the ready and was looking sternly ahead of them. Confused, she glanced that way too. Three men, weapons drawn, were advancing on their location. They did not look very friendly, she decided.

She thought that she should tell her brother this certitude. "They don't look very friendly."

"Brilliant observation, Sister."

The men surged forward. Two of them tried to back Carver away from Hawke, while the third grabbed her by the arm and put a dagger to her throat. His breath as he whispered threats was almost enough to make her throw up again. She stumbled along as he dragged her a little ways from Carver and the others, allowing him to do so simply because she wanted Carver out of range when she tossed the fireball she was preparing. Once she felt he was far enough away not to get toasty, she cast her spell.

She caught fire.

This had the welcomed effect of making her attacker let her go, but fire was _hot_! It hurt a lot and she quickly cast a water spell she normally used to fill tubs for baths. She only wanted enough to extinguish the fires, but ended up drenched in the torrential onslaught of water.

Now sopping wet, in pain from minor burns, and still drunk Hawke sat down on a nearby barrel, deciding she had had quiet enough of this day. The lid promptly gave up on life and she fell, ass first, into the wooden menace. Trapped.

Luckily for her, the only person around to witness this display of humiliation was her brother. Their would-be attackers had fled when she set herself on fire, believing her to be either possessed or crazy.

"Ow."

Rolling his eyes, Carver pulled her out and set her on her feet again. "What did you do?"

"My spell did something wonky." She muttered, embarrassed.

"Wonky." Carver made the word accuse her of stupidity. Could a word accuse someone?

She frowned. "I think I'm drunk."

"No argument from me." Carver let her lean on him as they made their way to Gamlen's.

Climbing the short staircase seemed particularly daunting. Narrow as it was, the two of them wouldn't be able to make it comfortably side by side, even with her leaning on him. She didn't have to brave them, however, for at that moment, Tilne walked out the door. She spun around on her heel and began walking in another direction. The world spun a bit, even after she had stopped, but she put of foot in front of the other, stubbornly.

"Temperance, wait." He caught up to her easily.

"No. Not waiting. Walking."

"I want to explain."

She kept walking. It was slow going, not tripping over her feet, though, so he easily kept pace. Did she want him to explain? Would he tell her anything she hadn't already guessed?

"Explain what? That you're the son of a noble? That you've been, what, hiding in the Iron? That became fairly obvious. As obvious—in fact—as my naivety, so yes, please, explain to me what I've already figured out."

"It's not what you think." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Please, hear me out."

She stopped and looked at him, not daring to hope she might be wrong.

"Elegant and I are betrothed."

It felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. Grimacing she spat, "Wonderful. Felicitations. Leave."

"You don't understand. We've _been_ betrothed for months." Months. Hawke thought about that for a few moments. The implications… "When my father demanded that I give up this 'foolish notion of playing soldier' and start accepting my 'noble responsibility' I tried to resist. I hated the idea of courting some nobleman's idiotic daughter." He scowled at the very notion, but continued. "Elegant was…"

"Elegant." Hawke offered.

He nodded. "She was everything I wanted in a wife. Strong, intelligent, beautiful. And she knew how to present herself as someone of birth, which would be important to my father. I began courting her a year ago."

Hawke ran a frustrated hand through her hair and groaned. This was ridiculous. It was just a kiss; she should be able to accept this graciously and walk away. They weren't involved, they weren't courting, and she certainly wasn't going to try to steal him away from Elegant. She felt betrayed, but she had been foolish enough to fall too fast.

She stepped out of his reach and schooled her features before asking, "Then why did you kiss me?"

He sighed. "I never thought I'd meet someone like you. When you started at the Iron… It was like seeing the ideal and realizing that Elegant was a pale comparison."

"Don't say that!" She was angry enough to hit him and might have tried if she weren't still drunk. "Elegant is a great person; you're damn lucky to have her!"

"She is great. You're fantastic."

"I'm a mage, an _apostate_. From _Ferelden_. I am not anything you should want." Hawke took a further step back and looked at Tilne a little lost. "Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to apologize—"

"Fine. Apology accepted. Go home."

"But seeing you again—"

She shoved him. "Go _home_. Go back to Elegant."

He easily caught her arms in his hands and held her there. "You don't get it. After the kiss, I thought if I could stay away from you, I could get you out of my mind, and I thought it was working, until I saw you today.

"I don't want Elegant—"

She interrupted him for a third time. "Stop! Just stop." She wriggled out of his hold. "I don't know what it is you think you want, but it isn't me. You and Elegant are an excellent match, and she _loves_ you. I saw it. Go back to her, go back to your father, and leave me alone."

She walked back to Gamlen's to find both Carver and Leandra on the steps, watching. Carver looked like he wanted to hit something—probably Tilne—but Leandra was holding him back with a motherly hand on his shoulder. Her mother guided Carver in as Hawke started up the stairs.

In a rare show of brotherly affection, Carver flopped down on the couch and pointed her to the bed he'd previously claimed. It would probably only be for a night or two, but she was grateful. She was also grateful that her mother didn't try to talk to her about what had just happened. She just wanted this day to be over.

Preparing herself to enter the Fade was harder than normal. Being drunk made it hard to concentrate. Which—in retrospect—was probably why her spell had backfired. Magic required concentration. She'd had to concentrate to get her feet to move properly. She really should not have tried to cast a spell.

Prepared at last, Hawke drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke the next morning, she felt better. The headache was bad, the nausea was uncomfortable, and the dizziness was altogether discombobulating, but she felt better about herself and the situation with Tilne. She had done the right thing, had helped her friend, and she accepted that as what ought to have happened and felt good about it.

Tilne's actions still made her hurt, but she shoved that away. She had work to do.

She expected a letter from Meeran today, but she was pleased that one didn't arrive. It was nice to just relax occasionally. So she did other things. Meditation, sparing, shopping, cooking, even some reading. Leandra had spent a little of the Wounded Coast money on a couple of books for Hawke to read.

When evening came, Hawke was still undecided as to whether or not to go to Giles' for the game. Ultimately, it was something Carver said that made her get off her ass and out the door.

"Don't let that twat decided what you do; otherwise, _you'll_ be the twat."

The evening at Giles was Tilne free and a lot of fun. It was nice to add the non-Iron players back into the game and sharing stories from the trip was amusing. Hearing the others' perspectives on what went down had Hawke in tears she was laughing so hard.

"Embellishment, thy name is Giles." She said between gasps of breath.

He winked. "More fun that way, Lass."

The next several weeks were not fun. Mission after mission—sometimes three in the same day!—had Hawke exhausted. The only good part about it was that she didn't see Tilne that often. When he was assigned to the same jobs, she kept it professional, and so did he. He would try to talk to her after a job, but unless it was directly related to a job or the Iron, she would have none of it.

She was becoming fairly well known within the Red Iron and was surprised that some of the men were requesting her for their missions, which—she discovered—was one of the reasons she had so many. She'd asked Giles about it one night during Diamond Back. The others laughed and explained to her that the survival rates of the Iron had dramatically increased since she enlisted. This made Hawke scoff and sent her on a rant about Meeran's ineptitude. It was unanimously agreed and led to several horror stories of jobs gone wrong.

Several of the situations she heard sounded familiar to things she'd been assigned to do. She'd managed to not get everyone killed usually by gathering what information she could ahead of time. Magic helped too.

The workload didn't really ease up for about three months. She welcomed the constant activity, finding that on her rare days off she had too much energy just to lie around. Resting was for once everything had been taken care of.

She was able to pull Aveline into one or two of her jobs that didn't involve illegal activity and only when Aveline didn't have a patrol. On one such occasion, they'd managed to—inadvertently—rescue a nobleman's young son. Stumbling upon the den of slavers in the Undercity had not really been in the original plan, but it had turned out well. Ewald, as his last act before transferring, promoted Aveline to Lieutenant, much to Jeven's vexation.

Once the three-month mark hit, Hawke started putting her ear to the ground for work outside of the Red Iron. She would be on her own without the Iron for protection and she needed to find some way to keep the Templars off her back and earn some coin. She also put feelers out with Worthy and Thomwise to see if they heard anything they could pass her way.

She hesitated about approaching Elegant.

Elegant had moved into Tilne's estate after the wedding (which Hawke had politely attended in support of her friend) and she hadn't seen either of them since. She didn't want to see Tilne for risk of Elegant finding out about her new husband's unfaithful attraction, and since she couldn't visit Elegant without also visiting Tilne, she had avoided the place.

She had run out of hair oil too.

Hawke decided she might be overreacting or over thinking, but she didn't want to risk it. She resolutely decided against visiting Elegant unless she absolutely had to. If she still hadn't heard of work by the two-week mark, she'd go to Elegant. Until then, she would rely on other contacts.

She was three months to freedom, three months to the unknown, three months to getting her life back.


	21. Finding Work

**Author's Note**:

Sorry about the delay in updating, I've been writing a lot for my Mass Effect fic recently… sorry…

I need more suggestions! I haven't had any in a while and I have been sad panda…

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Also, as a side note. **I would totally respond to your reviews** if I could ever figure out _how_. Which I know makes me sound kinda dumb, but there it is…

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

Her mood improved as the Day of Freedom approached. She joked more frequently, laughed more, and was almost always smiling. She was almost done with her year of service and it felt _good._ Even Meeran wasn't able to spoil her mood completely.

When news came that the Blight had been stopped, Lowtown was practically set ablaze with all of the celebration. Ferelden refugees led the charge and took over the Hanged Man for a night of drinking and toasting to the Hero of Ferelden, a little human mage-girl from the Circle in Ferelden, and the new King and Queen.

The only thing that brought Hawke down was the amulet Flemeth had given her. It's weight was a constant reminder around her neck and she sensed it was… aware; she didn't know what kind of magic it held, but it was making her nervous.

She'd looked into it when she first got to Kirkwall; a trip to Sundermount would take three days minimum. She didn't have the time to trek up there and back, and she probably wouldn't until she was released from Meeran's service. She had no desire to anger the Witch of the Wilds, especially after she'd saved her and her family. It would be the one of the first things she did after being released.

Hopefully.

It was an active three months. She spent almost no time at Gamlen's; she was there to quickly eat and to grab a few hours of sleep. If she wasn't on a job for Meeran, she was out looking for work.

Not that she was really qualified for anything. She had no experience in anything other than being a mercenary.

"You could always continue doing that." Giles suggested one night.

"What? Keep working for Meeran, are you serious?"

"The Iron wouldn't mind keeping you around, but no. I didn't mean Meeran. Do it yourself," he explained. "You don't need a company to help people."

"Just wander around asking if anyone needs help?" Hawke laughed.

"I was thinking more along the lines of escorting caravans, like we did for that dwarf." The elf said. "There's a huge Merchant's Guild in Hightown, and they're always asking for hired hands."

Hawke thought about it. "Maybe… I'll look into it."

As it happened, Giles was right. A few weeks before the Day of Freedom, Hawke got news of a dwarven merchant named Bartrand that was planning an expedition into the Deep Roads. She shared her find with Carver over dinner that night.

"The Deep Roads? Temperance, that sounds too dangerous." Leandra commented.

"They're supposed to be safer right after a Blight," Hawke said, "and the rewards far outweigh the risks."

"Assuming we can get on." Carver muttered.

"We have experience fighting darkspawn, he'll need us." Hawke assured her brother.

Gamlen scoffed, "Doesn't mean he'll admit it. Damn dwarves are bloody stubborn."

"Gamlen."

"Don't worry, Uncle." Hawke smiled. "I'll be charming."

The next day was quiet. No one would say it, but everyone was thinking of Bethany. Leandra spent most of the day weeping silently in her room. Carver took out his grief by staying active; he spent almost the whole day either sparring, running, or just fidgeting.

Hawke waited by the door for the inevitable letter from Meeran. When it arrived, she tore it open and read it quickly. She closed the letter slowly and handed it to Carver. As he read it, it was the only time he was still.

Meeran had given them the day off. She wasn't sure how he'd known; someone must have told him. Regardless of how he knew, giving her the day to mourn the anniversary of her sister's death ultimately made Hawke decide not to kill Meeran at the end of her service. She hadn't really been looking forward to it, but the man hadn't given her a reason not to. She was relieved he finally had.

With her free time that day, she sought out Aveline. She lost her sister, but Aveline had lost her husband that day too. She wanted to see if the redhead would be up for a round or three at the Hanged Man. She paid a city runner a silver to deliver the request for her. Since Jeven's promotion, she had avoided actually going into the barracks unless she had business with the Guard, which was not often.

The reply came in the form of Aveline herself. They left the Viscount's Keep and walked to the Hanged Man together in silence. Neither needed to say anything as they drank, and it was nice to just be without worrying about anything but whether or not to get a refill with the mug emptied. Hawke and Aveline were of a like mind when it came to dealing with loss and real pain; it's okay to lean on others, but you have to do most of the moving yourself.

After that, the remaining days of her contract seemed to fly by. She could hardly believe a year had passed so quickly. Giles and her friends in the Iron threw her a party at the Hanged Man her last night.

"I'm going to miss going on missions with you guys." She admitted to the room after a few drinks.

They raised their glasses in agreement, but it was Giles that spoke up. "You'll always have a seat for Diamond Back."

She nodded. "That's good. I wondered whether or not you'd kick me out for taking all your coin"

The men laughed. She exaggerated, of course; she didn't always win. Giles shook his head and patted her companionably on the back. It was then that one of the men pulled out a wooden flute and began to play. Cheering nearly drowned him out for a few seconds, but soon a drum and a lute were added and the dancing began.

Hawke tapped her foot to the beat on the sidelines and watched. There were a few group dances that she didn't recognize, clearly of Marcher origin, and she watched carefully, eager to learn. When one she did know started up, she found herself pushed into the fray by none other than Carver. Her brother laughed as she stuck her tongue out at him, but she joined the circle.

She enjoyed dancing; it didn't require nearly as much concentration as meditation, and she was already familiar with the steps. She hadn't just danced since the Lothering Harvest Festival. She missed it.

It was a nice party and Hawke was glad she could pretend that things would get easier for an evening. She knew they wouldn't; she had to talk to Bartrand tomorrow about the Deep Roads expedition and if that fell through, she had no idea where else she would be able to find work.

But those were worries for the morning. Tonight, she danced.

She woke with the sun, despite a long night. She wanted to get to the Merchant's District before it became too busy. She gathered her bag and her staff and headed for the door. Carver came running out of his room when she opened the front door.

"You weren't going to leave me, were you?"

"I thought you'd want your beauty sleep." She teased.

He scoffed. "Any better looking and I'd have to beat the ladies off with a stick."

They both laughed. She was glad her brother was in good spirits this morning. She could only be so charming with Carver looming menacingly over her shoulder. Happily, he was already ready to go, so he didn't delay her.

They made their way quickly to Hightown and from there to the Merchant's Guild. Finding Bartrand was not difficult. He was by far the loudest dwarf that Hawke had ever met. He didn't even let them get a single word out before he started shouting at them. His immediate rejection made Hawke extremely nervous, but she tried not to show it.

"Andraste's tits human! You know how many people want to hire on to this expedition?" The dwarf's adamant rejections were not making it any easier, of course.

"You're going into the Deep Roads," Carver's attempts at diplomacy generally left a lot to be desired. "You'll need to hire the best, and we're—"

"No. You're too late. Already done."

"The money from this trip could fix everything!" Hawke wanted to smack her brother for sounding so very desperate. Pleading was not going to soften Bartrand's heart. "You need us. We've fought Darkspawn."

"Look, Precious. I don't care if you tore the horns off an ogre's head with your bare hands."

Carver then turned to her, clearly at the end of his patience. "You make him understand. We're running from you're bloody Templars."

Now Hawke _really_ wanted to smack him upside the head. Announcing to the district that she was an apostate was Not Smart. She groaned inwardly. "My brother has a point—it's on his head—but it's still valid."

"Oh, thanks for that." He muttered.

Ignoring him, she continued. "So what about it Bartrand? We're just what you need."

"Let me guess, you want a quick way out of the slums, right? You and every other Ferelden in this dump." Bartrand drawled. "Find another meal ticket."

The dwarf stalked off and didn't give Hawke or her brother a backwards glance. Hawke sighed. They were in trouble now.

"Perfect. Back to waiting for someone to turn us in." Carver gripped.

She was worried. Very worried, but it wouldn't do to show Carver how nervous Bartrand's rejection had made her. "You can relax, Carver." She said with a smile. "The Templars dogging us are mine."

"Did I sound that bad?" He grimaced. "Maker, I'm turning into Gamlen."

They turned to head back to Lowtown when Carver suggested going to Gamlen as a way to find work since he was the one who had set them up with Meeran. Hawke was dubious. She didn't trust the reliability of Gamlen or his contacts, and she doubted he had anything. He would have said something by now, surely.

A redhead rudely bumped into her on their way out of the Merchant's Guild. Suspicious, she felt for her coin pouch. Noticing it wasn't there anymore, she cried out. She took off after the kid, Carver close behind, but he had a head start. All of their coin was in that pouch—a little more than seven sovereigns—and they certainly couldn't afford to have it slip away.

She heard a strange mechanical whirring and then a crossbow bolt buried itself in the pickpocket's shirt, pinning him to a stone wall. Hawke watched in mixed amusement and amazement as a dwarf—_with no beard, odd; that's a first_—sauntered up and lectured him on his woefully inadequate skills before taking the pouch and punching him. He removed the bolt and directed his attention to Hawke and her brother as the pickpocket stumbled off.

He tossed her the coin pouch and then proceeded to twirl the bolt in his hand before introducing himself. "How do you do? Varric Tethras, at your service." Hawke gave him a nod of thanks, which he took as an invitation to keep talking. "I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

Hawke couldn't get a read from making eye contact. It was something she'd noticed when encountering dwarves. If she had to guess, she'd say it had to do with their inability to connect to the Fade. As a mage she had a stronger connection to the Fade than normal people—even among other mages, hers was strong—and that connection granted her a heightened level of clarity, allowing her to see a bit of someone's personality through their eyes, and even the occasional vision while she slept. It was useful, but not perfect.

Hawke smirked anyway. There was something about this dwarf that made her relax a bit. "But you would?"

"I would! You see, what my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you." He chuckled. "He would never admit it either; he's too proud. I, however, am quite practical."

The revelation that this easy-going, friendly dwarf was somehow closely related to _Bartrand_ was a bit of a shock. She filed it away for future pondering and recovered quickly, however. "What makes you so certain we can help? You know nothing about us."

"On the contrary; you've made quite a name for yourself over the past year. The name Hawke has been on many a lips these days. Not bad for a Ferelden fresh off the boat."

Even more proof that Elegant had been right about people watching and paying attention to her. She wasn't really comfortable with the idea. "What makes you think you can convince him to hire us on?"

"We don't need another hireling." Varric said. "What we need is a _partner_. Truth is, Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to fund this on his own, but he can't do it. Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns and he can't refuse, not with me there to vouch for you."

Hawke almost wistfully felt like waving as the hope fled her chest on the words of "fifty sovereigns". She was desperate, however, and Varric seemed to know what he was talking about.

"I hope there's more to this plan, like how we're supposed to get fifty sovereigns." Carver put in obstinately.

"You need to think big! There's only a brief window after a Blight when the Deep Roads won't be crawling with darkspawn." Varric explained. "The treasure you find down there could se you and your family up for life!"

She silently applauded him for dangling the thing that mattered most in front of her face like that. He came off as easy-going, but she was becoming more and more convinced that behind the—impressive—chest hair was a manipulative mastermind.

Carver nudged her a bit. "The dwarf makes some sense. This was your idea, and it's a good one. This has got to be better than ending up in the Gallows."

Hawke silently agreed.

"We work together you and I," Varric added, "and before you know it you'll have all the capital you need. What do you say?"

She was glad he intended to help her raise the coin. It was one thing to tell her to raise fifty sovereigns; it was another completely to _help_ her raise fifty sovereigns. "What makes you so certain you can help me raise that kind of coin?"

"I know everyone in this city worth knowing," he said bluntly, "I can help you find the jobs you need, and if you don't need me for that… there's always Bianca." He gestured to the crossbow on his back.

Hawke fought the urge to laugh. "You named your crossbow?"

"And why not? She's a beauty." He turned affectionately to the weapon. "Isn't that right sweetheart?"

Still fighting the urge to laugh, Hawke nodded. "Alright. It's not like I had anything better planned."

"Perfect! Kirkwall is crawling with work. You set aside some coin from every job, and you'll have the money in no time!"

Carver, ever distrustful, turned to her and said, "Sure, easy… Maybe Aveline's got some bounties out? She's got a rank within the City Guard now, right?"

Hawke nodded. They were close and it was worth a look. Varric decided to tag along and asked Hawke to talk to him at his room in the Hanged Man later to discuss business. The group stopped for breakfast at a stall in the Hightown Market before heading to the Viscount Keep. Hawke asked their new friend some general questions as they ate. She wanted to get a sense of his personality, and she was curious about Bianca. She'd never seen a weapon so… complex. Varric was free with his answers and only hedged when it came to _how_ Bianca got her name.

For his part, Varric seemed equally curious about Hawke. He'd heard tales and rumors of what she'd done in the Red Iron, but this was his first chance to actually talk to her. He wanted first hand accounts and admitted that he was a bit of a storyteller.

Hawke got the distinct impression that he was going to be spreading hugely embellished accounts of her "adventures", as he dubbed them, whether she liked it or not.


	22. Healing and Salvation

**Author's Note**:

And at last (153 pages and 55k words later) we are in Act 1! I know we technically got there last chapter, but other stuff happened that chapter too, so :P Anyway, I may have mentioned at some point earlier that I'm going to be taking a few liberties with dialogue. There are some scenes (mostly character introductions) that I'm going to keep fairly similar because I think they were either really well done, or because what is said is important. Other than that, I'm going to try to keep it original or at least interesting.

I need more suggestions! I haven't had any in a while and I have been sad panda…

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Also, a big thank you to AndAgain who taught me how to reply to reviews.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

After breakfast, they climbed the stairs to the Viscount's Keep and walked through the doors. Varric nodded to a few of the guards as they entered and they weren't given any trouble about being there. Hawke smiled to herself. Having the dwarf around would be quite useful, it seemed.

She snuck cautiously down the stairs to the barracks Now-Captain Jeven did not like her and she didn't want to make trouble for Aveline if she could avoid it, so she tied to avoid the ornery man if she could. Seeing his door was closed, she straightened and walked confidently over to her friend.

"Aveline!" Hawke said happily, throwing her arms open for a hug.

Aveline did not turn away from the duty roster. "Hello Hawke."

Rather put out, Hawke pouted. "That's it?"

Aveline finally turned. "Sorry, Hawke. It feels like we just talked." The redhead continued at Hawke's questioning look. "I've been keeping an eye on you. Information is one of the few perks of this job."

Varric scoffed behind her.

Aveline glanced at him and then turned back to Hawke. "Keep an eye on Bartrand. He's a son of a bitch."

Varric laughed at this and Hawke shook her head. "It's not as if we have jobs lining up. This is the best option for us."

"I know. Just be careful." Aveline paused as if thinking, then added, "Actually. I may have some work for you. Let me know if you're interested in doing a favor for Kirkwall."

"Alright, Aveline. You have something worth doing?"

She nodded. "My patrols may be empty walks in the dark, but there's something big coming up. An ambush; though I can't find any shipments that match up. Doesn't matter. Highwaymen waiting for someone to rob? I'm putting a stop to it, my district or no."

They spent the next few minutes discussing the details and made plans for a trip up to Sundermount that afternoon. Aveline informed her that the ambush site was much closer to the city proper than the Dalish elves, so it wouldn't take more than a few hours to investigate. Aveline also agreed to spend the interim time with Hawke as she looked for more work since her next patrol wasn't until the next evening.

Before they headed out of the barracks, Hawke made short introductions. She was sure that both Varric and Aveline knew who the other was, but that this was the first time they had actually met. Varric, in particular, seemed interested in hearing about Aveline's escape from Ferelden and the battle of Ostagar since she was the first survivor he'd had the opportunity—or desire—to talk with directly.

Aveline, for her part, seemed agreeable to talking about what happened with the dwarf since he didn't ask any overly personal questions. She was also interested in Bianca. Though not an archer herself, she did know a few in the guard, and Bianca was certainly beautiful.

At Varric's suggestion, they headed to the Hanged Man in Lowtown. As she descended the stairs from the Hightown market, Hawke saw a familiar face.

"Well, if it isn't Hawke," Elegant said with a smile.

"Elegant." Hawke embraced the blonde. It had been several months since she'd seen her last.

"Lady Elegant, if you don't mind. I am a married woman, after all." More quietly she added, "At least in public. I have a reputation."

Hawke nodded. "Of course."

"Last we spoke, you were still working for that brutish thug, Meeran. Your year must be up by now."

"Ended today, actually."

"That's wonderful news." Elegant seemed to ponder for a moment and then nodded to herself. "You recall that I supplied the Red Iron with potions. I'd be willing to extend you the same courtesy; all I ask is that you inform me of any interesting reagents you find."

"I think I can manage that." Hawke said.

"You'll need the appropriate recipes too, of course." She reached down and handed Hawke a bottle. "And take this."

Hawke opened the bottle and lifted it to her nose. Cherry and vanilla. It was more of Elegant's wonderful hair oil. Hawke reached for her coin pouch.

"Free." Elegant shook her head. "For old time's sake."

"Thank you, Lady Elegant." She put the bottle reverently in her bag and gave Elegant a final hug goodbye before moving on.

The Hanged Man wasn't too much further and it had been a several hours since Aveline had eaten breakfast, so the guard was eager to arrive. Once they walked in, Aveline headed for the bar to order some food. Hawke sent Carver with her since it was fairly hit or miss whether or not a guard would be treated well.

Once they were alone, Varric motioned for Hawke to follow and led them to one of the tables. It seemed he had a reserved one near the fireplace because the men who were seated there hurriedly moved when Varric approached.

When Hawke gave him a questioning eyebrow he just shrugged, "It pays to know people."

"Apparently."

"I wanted to discuss some business with you, since we're here." He gestured Hawke to take a seat. "There's someone I think we should track down, a Grey Warden from Ferelden."

"I suppose I can see the benefit of having a Warden join us."

"If he wants to come along, I'm not going to argue, but that's not why we need him. We need an entrance into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to where we're going once we get there, but getting in is proving to be a bit of a problem."

"Wouldn't any entrance do? Unless there's a dragon sitting in it, I suppose."

Varric chuckled, but shook his head. "We need an entrance close to our destination but that isn't already plundered or filled with darkspawn."

"And no one knows the Deep Roads better than the Grey Wardens. You're thinking he can lead us to an entrance."

"You catch on quick."

"So where is he?"

"Not sure, but I do know where we can start looking. A local woman named Lirene has been helping the refugees. She may know where to point us."

"You think of everything, don't you Varric."

He gave a small bow. "And that Messere, is why I'm here."

Aveline and Carver returned with food and drink enough for all. Hawke filled them in on their new hunt for the Grey Warden. Once they were done eating, the four left in search of Lirene shop. Aveline found it across from a nearby tailor's stand and they made their way in.

The apprehensive tone of the search changed once they learned that the Grey Warden was a mage healer. Carver and Aveline both seemed uneasy risking discovery by talking to another apostate, but they had their directions and left, though Hawke did drop a sovereign in the donation box on her way out.

Hawke didn't think she'd ever see the day when Carver's short temper and sharp tongue would ever get them _out_ of trouble, but he managed to do just that when a group of refugees cornered them as the left Lorain's. Once the group learned that Hawke and her brother were Ferelden, they left. Clearly, the healer, Anders, meant a lot to the Fereldens in Kirkwall.

They ventured down to the Undercity with little in way of directions. Figuring she'd better ask someone who knew the area, she headed for Thomwise's stall. He seemed surprised to see her, but extended the same offer than Elegant had. Hawke was pleased that he was still willing to work with her even though she no longer worked for Meeran. Thomwise was able to give her directions too. She thanked him and the four turned around and headed to the healer's clinic.

Darktown certainly left a lot to be desired. She'd had to trudge through the area more than a few times on missions and it just never got any better. Sidestepping piles of muck and the dying was never pleasant and made Hawke obligingly grateful to her uncle for giving them a roof in Lowtown. She worried for the state of this healer's clinic, and hoped the man had taken at least a few measures to clean the place.

They located the lit lantern and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, Hawke decided to test the handle. It wasn't locked. She opened it and the others followed her in.

The man she guessed was Anders was busy in a deep healing. A little boy was mangled and bloody on a cot in front of him and the healer was pouring a lot of mana into restoring the little broken body. She wanted to help, but she was afraid of throwing off his concentration.

Impressively, the boy healed and the healer stumbled back; tired, but conscious. If she had tried something like that, she'd be unconscious for a week if not dead. His skills were… extraordinary. Possibly even better than her father and Bethany's had been. Combined.

He seemed to sense their presence and whirled around, staff at the ready. "I have made this a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?" His voice seemed to almost echo.

Clearly whatever she said had to convince the mage that they weren't here to harm him. She needed this man's help. She grinned and crossed her arms. "Healing and salvation? I thought you Wardens were all about taint and darkspawn."

The mage considered them for a moment before stepping back into a non-aggressive stance, though he didn't seem particularly inclined to help. "Did the Wardens send you to bring me back? I'm not going. Those bastards made me give up my cat." He sighed. "Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

"You had a cat named Ser Pounce-a-lot? In the Deep Roads?" Hawke tried hard to keep the laughter out of her voice, but her amusement was evident.

"He was a gift." Anders explained. "A noble beast. Swatted a genlock on the nose once. Drew bloody too. The Blighted Wardens said he… made me too soft. I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine."

Varric nudged her to get back on topic. Nodding she changed the subject. "We're planning an expedition into the Deep Roads. We need your help."

He shook his head. "I will die a happy man if I never think about the Deep Roads again. I'm not going—although…" the sudden shift seemed jarring to Hawke, but she wasn't going to say anything. "A favor for a favor. You help me and I'll help you. Does that sound fair?"

"Let's be more specific. I don't do anything involving children or animals." Hawke wasn't sure she trusted this mage, fantastic healing abilities or no.

Listening to him lay out his plan, Hawke felt an increasing sense of distrust. She didn't like the Templars any more than the next mage, but she never spoke of them with the kind of anger that Anders did. Combining that with his reaction when they first walked in, and Hawke had no illusions that this man held an aggressiveness toward Templars that most people reserved for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.

However, she also felt for the cause. She fought tooth and nail to keep Bethany and herself out of the Circle and away from Templars. Everyone deserved freedom, and contrary to popular belief, not every mage outside the Circle fell prey to demons. Her family was proof enough of that. She was more inclined to help Karl than not.

She agreed to meet Anders at the Chantry that night to help him free Karl in exchange for his map of the Deep Roads. Carver and Aveline both held their disagreements until they were no longer in Darktown. Neither liked the idea of fighting Templars or freeing a mage of the Circle. Aveline did not hold the same faith in mages that Hawke did, and Carver wanted to avoid attracting the Templars' wrath.

She understood their concerns. It was not a task she felt exceptionally good about, but Karl deserved a shot at freedom, and, perhaps more importantly, they needed Anders' maps.

Before they left for Sundermount, Hawke and Carver stopped at Gamlen's. The scene they found was not one Hawke would have expected. Her mother and uncle were arguing. It was odd because Leandra hated confrontation and was too grateful to Gamlen's help getting them into the city that any displeasure she had, she hid. That something had finally provoked a response from her made Hawke more than a little curious.

Listening to the argument, Hawke became more and more interested in the will. She found it odd that Gamlen would leave something so important behind. So did Carver apparently, since he was the one to comment. Gamlen was stubborn though, and wouldn't say anything beyond "Get used to Lowtown".

Hawke shook her head and fetched her canteen (the reason she had stopped at the hovel to begin with) and then checked the letters that had arrived. Both from Meeran, one saying she was free—like she needed him to tell her—and the other a job opportunity she'd look into later.

Presently, she and Carver told Leandra where they were headed and that they were going to be late getting back, then they left. With apologies to Varric and Aveline for taking so long, the four headed out of the city to the ambush site.

The few stragglers they ran across were surprised to find a well-armed group and didn't really put up too much of a fight. Aveline and Hawke stood watch to make sure no one snuck up on them as Carver and Varric looted the bodies. Determined to root them all out, Aveline suggested going over the area thoroughly and Hawke agreed. She was even rewarded for her troubles by finding a dense patch of Elfroot. She cut a sample and then marked the patch on a map to bring back to Elegant.

When they found the main ambush, they dispatched them with ruthless efficiency. This time Aveline assisted with going over the bodies while Varric took care of a few traps.

"Well equipped for bandits." She commented. Hawke nodded in agreement. The other bandits she'd encountered hadn't had much more than ragged leather and iron swords. These were outfitted with quality goods. "But dead is dead, and the way is clear. Back to the barracks, for your just reward."

"I like rewards." Hawke quipped with a smirk.

Aveline had been right about the trip not taking too long. They were back in Kirkwall before the sunset and headed to the barracks immediately. Aveline told Hawke to wait outside the door while she explained to Captain Jeven what they'd done. The yelling that soon commenced did not bode well.

Aveline returned, angry and frustrated.

"I take it this means I won't be getting paid." Hawke tried to make her smile.

"He'd jail you, no doubt about it." She sighed.

"We did the right thing." Hawke assured her.

"Sometimes I wonder how much that matters in this town." Aveline sounded so dejected that Hawke wanted to give her a hug, but refrained for Aveline's sake. Aveline offered to treat them to dinner since it was likely the only reward they were going to get for their service and they left.

After dinner, Hawke told Aveline that she should consider not joining them this evening at the Chantry. What they were doing was illegal, very illegal, and she didn't want her friend to be in even more trouble.

Aveline reluctantly agreed. She didn't like leaving Hawke to handle a potentially dangerous situation without her, but she understood that Hawke was giving her a way out so that she wouldn't have to choose between her friend and her obligations to the city.

So, a few bells after sunset, Hawke dropped her friend off at the barracks and headed to the Chantry.

"I don't trust him." Carver stated for the umpteenth time.

"Duly noted, Junior." Varric grumbled. He was just as annoyed at Carver as Hawke was.

Hawke sighed. "I don't trust him yet, either. It doesn't really matter at this point."

They climbed the final few steps and saw that Anders was already there waiting for them. "I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago." He said by way of greeting.

"Hello to you too. Nice evening for a stroll don't you think?"

Anders stared pointedly at her. "No sign of Templars."

Right. To business. "I didn't see anyone suspicious." _Except you_, she added silently.

"Good. Let's go." He lead the way into the Chantry and added quietly, "When we find Karl, let me do the talking. You're here to handle any Templars."

Handle any Templars. What a catastrophe.

The mage they' come to rescue had been made Tranquil: stripped of his connection to the Fade and his magic. A shell. There was nothing of the soul that had been. In addition, the Templars were waiting for them. The entire thing had been a trap set for Anders.

Then there was the part where Anders… split into a crackling ball of blue rage. The hint of echo she had heard in his voice when they'd first met was back, this time in full volume, and he spoke with a voice that was not his own.

After she bashed in the head of the last Templar she whirled on Anders, staff at the ready in case he turned on any of her friends next. Instead, the cracks receded and he was in control again. He looked at Hawke, shame and defiance on his face, and then put his staff away.

Just when Hawke thought there was nothing else that could surprise her that night, Karl killed that fantasy real quick. "Anders! What did you do?"

The shock of the Tranquil pleading with Anders to end his life was wearing off as they got further and further from the Chantry. By time they were back in Anders' clinic in Darktown she was ready for an explanation.

Anders provided her with one. He was possessed, but not an Abomination. So he claimed.

"That didn't look like a happy benevolent spirit from where I was standing." Hawke pointed out.

"When is Justice happy?" He snapped. "Justice is hard. Justice is righteous."

She didn't trust it, but as he continued to talk about how his anger had corrupted his friend, she did begin to feel for him. He'd done it for a good reason, not realizing the consequences. Not that that let him completely off the hook. He was still a danger, but he was trying to make up for his mistake by helping the poor.

She was conflicted. She needed an answer, but she was a little wary of getting it. There was no telling what looking into a possessed man's soul would be like.

_It _hurt_. There was so much pain! Two souls were not meant to occupy one body. She saw the person Anders used to be; a kind, sarcastic, though frightened, selfish, and angry man who just wanted his freedom. And she saw Justice. The spirit was not kind, not forgiving, and not wholly Justice. Anders had been right; his anger was changing the spirit, and in turn, the spirit was changing him. When her attention focused on him, Justice spoke. Which was definitely new._

"_**Mage. Your connection to the Fade is impressive, as is your training. Where did you learn?**"_

"_My father." She thought/spoke. This was all very confusing and more than a little painful._

"_**You are free of the injustice of the Circle. You know what we are fighting for.**"_

"_I don't like the Circle any more than he does," she thought/pointed toward Anders, "but a handful of people can't change the structure of the world."_

"_**That does not mean they should not fight.**"_

The connection broke a second after it started and she had a whopping headache. She stumbled back into her brother, who caught her and set her back on her feet. Hawke quickly gestured to Carver and Varric before they drew the weapons they were fingering.

"I'm all right."

"What just happened?" Carver asked.

"Remind me never to do that to a possessed person again." Hawke muttered.

Anders stepped up to her cautiously, his hand extended. "Let me take care of the headache?"

She nodded and allowed Anders to heal the headache. She relaxed as the pain slipped away and thanked him when he was done. After all that, she decided that she could trust him, for the moment. However, she feared the more Justice changed, the less she'd be able to.

Hawke, Carver, and Varric left, maps in their possession and a new companion to call on if they needed him.


	23. Fools Rush In

**Author's Note**:

Long chapter is long!

Sorry for the delay in updating, I've been super stressed recently and haven't had much time to type.

Hopefully the fight scenes are well done, I don't have much in the way of experience writing them, so I apologize if they are crap. If you have constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it. About anything, not just the fight sequences.

I need more suggestions! I haven't had any in a while and I have been sad panda…

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

Once they were back at the Hanged Man, her companions could no longer stay silent. Varric guided them up to his rooms and shut the door. Hawke was sat down at the table while Carver loomed over her. She spent the next hour answering questions about what had happened, mostly Varric's questions. Carver, as her brother, knew she could gain a little insight to someone by looking in their eyes; he didn't understand exactly how it worked, but he'd seen it done on several occasions.

Varric hadn't and seemed very interested in finding out everything he could. Hawke answered to the best of her ability, even taking time to explain her theory about why it didn't work on dwarves. Once he'd gotten the basic how, the questions of what happened in the clinic began in earnest.

"So he was telling the truth; he's not an abomination?"

"Not yet." Hawke replied.

"Not yet?" Carver growled. "What do you mean, not yet?"

"Anders was right. Justice is changing; it's already started. I don't know how long it'll take, but the spirit has been corrupted; eventually, it won't be a spirit anymore."

"That's disturbing." Varric muttered.

Hawke nodded.

"I say we kill it." Carver stated.

"No!" Hawke objected. "If anything we should try to help him."

"Why?"

"Justice is being corrupted by Anders' anger. The angrier he gets, the faster the corruption. If we help him, maybe we can stall the corruption."

"You just want to free the mages." Carver snapped.

"You don't?" She asked quietly. "You spent your whole life helping keep me and Bethany out of the Circle. Shouldn't everyone have the same freedom we had?"

Carver didn't answer. To be honest, she didn't think he would. She doubted that Carver felt one iota of empathy for other mages; he just cared for his family. She still hoped he'd understand her desire to help the others.

The silence stretched on. Eventually, Hawke sighed. "I'm not suggesting breaking into the Gallows. I know that would be suicide. I'm just saying that there has to be _something_ we can do."

Carver scoffed and shook his head. "Not our fight, Tempy."

"An argument for another time perhaps?" Varric suggested diplomatically. "It's late and time for this dwarf to get his sleep."

Hawke nodded and left with a goodnight to Varric, Carver following behind her. The argument that ensued once they reached Gamlen's hovel was surprisingly quiet considering how angry both of them were. Self-preservation lowered their voices; the last thing they needed was a Templar overhearing them shouting about not attracting Templar attention.

After an hour of arguing, they came to an agreement. Hawke would do nothing to free the mages already locked away in the tower, but if she had the chance, Carver wouldn't stop her from helping apostates already outside of the Circle. She felt tremendously relieved that she'd gotten him to agree to that much.

In addition to talking about what happened at the clinic, Varric had slipped her a list of rumors that might lead to some job opportunities. Once Carver had gone to bed, she pulled it out and looked it over along with the letter Meeran had sent earlier that day. She spent another hour trying to arrange a schedule or at least a basic plan to take care of everything.

Meeran's letter seemed to be the most urgent. She'd have to contact this Anso and see what she could do for him. The letter said that he'd be waiting in Lowtown market district tomorrow night.

The list of rumors Varric had given her consisted mostly of lost items that she'd have to spend a day or two scouring Kirkwall to find. Resigning herself to that, she decided that she'd also follow up with Aveline tomorrow and see if she needed any more help. She also decided to visit Anders in his clinic at some point, maybe help out if she could.

"Busy day." She muttered to herself. She sighed and arranged herself on the couch to go to sleep.

The next morning, Hawke and Carver set out to meet up with Varric at the Hanged Man. When they walked in, the first thing they noticed was a very dark, very scantily clad, very well endowed woman at the bar. Hawke watched with mild amusement as the thugs that were trying to harass her failed miserably. Hawke and Carver sidestepped to allow the fleeing group access to the exit.

"She looks like fun." Hawke said, walking over.

When they got closer, the woman turned to watch them as they approached. "You're new around here, aren't you."

"Not so new." Carver muttered.

"Well, be careful." She turned her attention back to Hawke. "You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this bar, and they won't hesitate to grab at both."

"Speaking from experience?"

She laughed. "After a few broken fingers, they got the idea."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"The name is Isabela. Previously Captain Isabela, but without my ship the title rings a bit hollow."

"Hawke." She shook hands with the pirate—for she could be nothing else—and then gestured to her brother. "That's my brother Carver."

"You're Ferelden, aren't you. You have that look about you. Actually, you remind me a little of the Hero of Ferelden. I… met her while I was in Denerim not too long ago." Isabela smirked.

"There might be a bit of a family resemblance, I suppose. We're distant cousins." Hawke admitted. She hadn't told Varric yet—or else he'd have asked questions she did not have answers to—but her mother had informed her that the Hero of Ferelden was, in fact, an Amell.

"Is that so? In that case, you may be exactly the type of person I'm looking for. I'm in a bit of a spot and could use your help."

"Oh? What sort of help?"

"Someone from my past is pestering me. I've arranged for a duel tonight, in Hightown. But I don't expect Hayder to play fair."

"Why a duel?"

"I like duels." She chuckled. "It's what I do. And if I win, he'll be dead; problem solved."

She seemed friendly enough, but anyone could wear a smile. Despite what happened last time, she decided to go ahead and assume that Isabela wasn't possessed and looked her in the eye.

_All sorts of feisty. Independent, smart, clever, but she's hiding something. She has soft spot for innocents, though; that's good. Bold, certainly, greedy, and unashamedly lewd. Not a bad person overall, but she has potential to be even better._

"Alright. I think I can watch your back." Hawke said, breaking eye contact.

"I'll bet." Isabela winked. She gave Hawke the rundown of time and place and then went back to her drinking.

Hawke gathered Varric from his chamber and the three set off to talk with Aveline. On the way, Hawke gave Varric a basic outline for things to do that day and then later that night. He added a few suggestions of his own, and soon they'd hammered out a general plan.

When they found Aveline, she did not appear to be in a very good mood.

"Something isn't right."

"There are a lot of things not right with this city." Hawke replied, keeping a wary eye on Jeven's closed door.

"I can't figure out what it is though. I'm missing something."

"We'll talk through it at lunch; maybe some new perspectives will help." Hawke suggested.

"Maybe." Her friend nodded. "I've some time before my afternoon patrol. Let's go."

As they headed for the stairs, a small brunette ran up. "Aveline! I owe you for clearing that ambush. Saved me a mess of trouble."

"Brennan. That route was yours?"

She nodded. "Single patrol."

"Are you often sent alone to deal with overwhelming odds?" Hawke didn't think the girl could handle more than a couple thugs, let alone an ambush like the one they took care of.

"That route was clear for months; first noise we heard out of it was your big fight." Brennan addressed Aveline again. "Anyway, Captain reassigned me and I passed the satchel to Donnic for his patrol tonight."

"What satchel?"

"Pay and order assignments. Captain has us run it to the outposts during light duty." Aveline clarified.

"Usually. Satchel sure was heavier than normal, though." Brennan shrugged. "Anyway, just wanted to say thanks again."

Aveline waited until Brennan was out of earshot before heading to the duty roster. "The satchel gets heavy the same time as our ambush. That can't be a coincidence."

Hawke followed her friend as she connected facts in her mind. "Are you sure you want to do this? This is your superior we're talking about."

"If a guard's in danger a good captain would want to know why, and if he's not a good captain, _I_ want to know why." Aveline read the duty roster, searching for Donnic's patrol listing.

When she found it, Hawke groaned quietly to herself. Lowtown at night, and they couldn't intercept him before that because either he or Aveline were on duty until then. Between helping Anso, Isabela, and Aveline, the night was going to be a very long one. Helping Aveline took priority though.

Aveline suggested the Chanters' board as a good place to start. Hawke agreed and they set off to the Chantry courtyard after lunch. The man in bright white armor arguing with the Grand Cleric was certainly _not_ what any of them had expected to find.

As they entered hearing range, the Grand Cleric ripped a notice off the board. "This is murder!"

The armored man drew his bow and knocked an arrow faster than anyone else Hawke had ever seen and fired it with confidence. The notice was torn from the Grand Cleric's hand and pinned to the Chanters' board by the arrow.

"No. What happened to my family was murder." The man then slung his bow across his back and walked away, passing Hawke and company along the way.

Varric whistled in appreciation and Hawke concurred. That was definitely an interesting scene.

She ran up to the Grand Cleric and bowed her head respectfully. "Allow me, Your Grace."

At the older woman's nod, Hawke braced one hand against the board and wrapped the other around the arrow. Very carefully, so as not to alert the Grand Cleric, she sent a charm through the shaft to soften the wooden plank it had embedded itself in and then she pulled the arrow out in a quick yank. She used her slight-of-hand skills to stealthily pass the note to Varric.

She presented the arrow to the Grand Cleric. "Thank you, my child. I shall return this to Sebastian."

"No problem, Your Grace." With another bow, Hawke and company left.

The rest of the day was spent looking for work the old fashion way. They found some, not much, but she was pleased that they could knock a few of the missing items off the list. Added to the list, however, was a family matter. Carver finally decided to tell Hawke that the Amell estate was overrun with slavers and that Leandra had given him a key to the cellar so that they could go find the will that Gamlen had left behind. She was a little angry with him for keeping silent, but she understood that he just didn't care as much about their Amell heritage as mother did.

She decided that they needed to clear out the slavers the next night. She didn't want to do it during the day because too many of them would be awake and aware. Going in at night offered them a stealthy entrance, but it would have to wait for a night when she didn't already have so much to do. The slavers weren't going anywhere.

When the sun finally started to sink below the horizon, Hawke and Varric said goodnight to Carver as Aveline rejoined them after her afternoon patrol.

"Why are you leaving me behind?"

"I'm going to be going from one fight to the next all night long. I may not get any sleep tonight." Hawke explained.

"What's your point?"

"One of us should be awake and fresh tomorrow."

"So you stay, and I'll go."

It took getting Leandra involved before Carver finally agreed to stay behind. She hated using their mother against him, but he was being too stubborn for his own good.

Their next step was Darktown. They'd have to find Donnic along his route and there was no guarantee they'd find him before the ambush did. She wanted the better healer nearby just in case. She also wanted to see him in battle. As a Grey Warden he'd have seen combat before and she was curious to see how he'd handle himself.

Anders seemed surprised to see her, but not displeased. He left one of his helpers in charge of the clinic and left with Hawke. They hurried up to Lowtown. The sun had set fully now, and Hawke wanted to find Donnic quickly.

Thankfully, the door from the Undercity let them up near the Foundry district. As they moved up the stairs, they heard the sound of battle. Cursing, Aveline led the charge into a small alcove where they found Donnic and a surprisingly large number of thugs.

Sensing the greater threat, the bandits ignored the injured guard and faced the new threat. Aveline stayed at the entrance to the alcove, shield at the ready and taunted the group into approaching. Hawke admired her friend a little more for being able to remember the distinct advantage their group had.

Hawke gave Anders a sideways glance and prepared a fireball, she saw him nod and follow suit. As soon as the group was sufficiently away from Donnic, the mages unleashed fiery retribution.

Hawke threw her fireball and thought Anders had done the same until she saw that what he'd done was slightly more… impressive. He called fire to drop from the sky on to the heads of the bandits.

Hawke cackled as Aveline charged in to take care of the survivors once the spell had dissipated. "You have got to teach me that."

Anders, Varric, and Hawke did a good job of keeping the bulk of the attackers off of Aveline. As more jumped down from rooftops, Hawke clobbered one that got too close to her in the head with her staff, and then sent lightning to stun the ones surrounding Varric. The dwarf then promptly shot each one in a vital area and swung around to give the four bothering Anders a reason to back off.

Using her staff as a focus, Hawke began whittling away at a pair of archers that had taken up residence on Aveline's flank. Her red-haired friend made her way through the bandits on her right and then headed for the archers as well. A shield bash sent one to his knees. She followed it up with a clean stab to the heart and pushed him off her blade with her foot just as Hawke slammed the butt of her staff on the ground sending a burst of ice to impale the last archer.

Turning to help Anders and Varric, she saw that they had taken care of their attackers and were moving to help her and Aveline. She took a deep breath and looked around. No other attackers presented themselves. The battle was over.

Aveline had already moved to help Donnic to his feet. Hawke gestured Anders to go look the guardsman over while she and Varric looted the bodies. There were fifteen all told. Seemed excessive to take out one guard. She mentioned it to Varric who only shrugged and continued going through pockets.

Hawke found the satchel near one of the bandits and gave it a look over. She pulled out documents with the official seal of the Viscount on them. Varric became interested as well and joined in on the inspection.

"Office dealings, city accounts," Varric pointed them out as he found them.

"Valuable to a guild of thieves."

Aveline joined them then. "A sacrificial delivery with one of our own. Jeven will answer for this."

Hawke opened her mouth to make a joke but stopped when Aveline gave her a look she decided it was healthier to shut up. Instead she handed the satchel to Aveline and continued to loot bodies.

Once that was done and Donnic was feeling better, they set off to Hightown, passing Anso on the way. She told the others to go on, that she would catch up in a moment and then went to the dwarf.

"Anso?"

He jumped startled. "Sweet mother of Partha, you can't sneak up on a guy like that." He looked her over. "Are you the one Meeran said could help me?"

"That's me. I'm in the middle of something right now, but I'll be right back. You good to sit tight for a bit?"

He seemed confused, and then worried, but nodded.

"Excellent. I promise I will be back shortly." She waved and left at a run to catch up with her friends.

She met them at the top of the stairs to the Hightown markets and led them through the quiet streets to the Viscounts Keep. She saw Isabela waiting for her on their way to the barracks.

"I'll be right with you! Just making a delivery." She gestured at Donnic and then hurried up the stairs before the pirate could respond.

After depositing Donnic in the barracks, the group raced back down the stairs to meet up with Isabela. The duel shouldn't take too long so long as everything went according to plan.

"There you are. I've been waiting for hours." She sounded more worried than annoyed. "Hayder hasn't shown up, yet. No one has." She shook her head. "I don't like this."

"I don't like this?" Varric snorted. "That's right up there with 'what could possibly go wrong'!"

As if summoned by the words of the storyteller, a mean looking group of thugs rounded the corner, weapons at the ready. "That's the wench we're looking for. Gut her."

"Why does it never go according to plan?" Hawke muttered.

She heard Varric laugh and then the battle began. This group was disproportionally small compared to the one sent after Donnic and did not take long to dispatch. Isabela told them to look for a note, see who sent them.

Hawke found it on the one who'd led the charge and handed it to Isabela. Hawke and company followed the pirate to the Chantry courtyard where they ran into another easily dispatched group and then up the stairs to the Chantry doors.

Sighing, Hawke opened the door. Twice in as many nights she was going to spill blood on holy ground. She was not a particularly devout Andrastian, but something still felt wrong about holding clandestine dealings in a sleeping Chantry.

She got a lot of information about Hayder, Isabela, and a third person named Castillon from the short conversation that occurred on the Chantry floor. She was still trying to process through it when Isabela threw one of her daggers into the chest of one of the raiders. The battle began then, in earnest.

The pirate launched herself into the fray, ignorant to the fact that she had just significantly hindered the effectiveness of the mages in the group. Aveline shook her head and then joined in close combat with Hayder, taunting him and keeping him sufficiently distracted for Isabela to flank him.

Hawke signaled Varric to take care of the archers on the stairs, and then launched a fireball at the group coming up behind the pirate. If she got a little singed, Hawke hoped it would teach her not to run in so quickly next time.

A holler from Anders warned her of the group attempting to flank them from the Chantry storerooms. She turned in time to block an attack directed at her head with her staff. She breathed a short sigh of relief that the staff didn't break, and then she kicked her attacker in the ribs. Winded, he disengaged and stumbled back. Hawke then gave him a solid upward swing to the face, breaking his nose. She had a brief moment of shock when he dropped to the floor, dead. She didn't think a broken nose could kill someone…

A slash to her arm brought her back to the fighting. She sent a bolt of ice to her new foe and then used her staff to push him into the raider behind him who had been engaging Anders. The blonde mage then sent a wave of ice to impale both of them before they could regain their footing and then moved on to his next target.

Groaning, she ran closer to Varric. The dwarf had attracted the attention of three unhappy pincushions and needed help. Her arm hurt, but she ignored it as she launched lightning. Two of them arched back in pain, but the third seemed to power through the spell to continue his attack. Hawke swung over Varric's head and got his assailant in the throat. He dropped.

Varric had taken care of the other two while they were distracted and nodded his thanks to Hawke before aiming Bianca in a new direction. He was bleeding in several places and didn't look too good. Hawke spent a few precious seconds to fetch a health potion from the side pocket of her bag and handed it to him. He took it, grateful, and chugged. Satisfied that she could see his wounds closing, Hawke moved on.

Looking around, she saw that Isabela was engaged with Hayder and that the raider was backing her into a corner. Confused, Hawke looked around for Aveline. Her friend lay face down on the floor near some melted candles. Panicked, she whistled sharply to get Anders' attention. When he looked at her she pointed to Aveline and he nodded.

Furious, Hawke walked right up behind Hayder and swung has hard as she could up and between his legs with the heavy end of her staff. She connected solidly with his family jewels and he fell to his knees, gasping. She gave him another powerful swing to the side of his head, knocking him fully to the ground. When she saw that he was still alive she took her knife from her belt and slit his throat.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Varric muttered. "It seems to be… unhealthy."

Rising, she gave Isabela a glare. "Stab first, ask questions later?"

"Trust me, it's better this way." The pirate said with a smile, though she was clutching a wound in her side.

Hawke shook her head and walked over to Anders and Aveline. Her friend was already conscious thanks to the mage and had a glare of her own for the pirate. Hawke helped her to her feet and then turned to Isabela again.

"There's clearly more to this duel than you told us." Hawke said as she inspected Isabela's wound.

Isabela, for her part, came out with what had actually happened, including the freeing of the would-be slaves and losing the Relic that Castillon so desperately wanted. Isabela claimed to not know what the Relic was, only that it was very valuable. Her ship had crashed in the same storm that brought the Qunari to Kirkwall, and again Hawke thanked whatever powers that be she was away from the city when that storm hit. Gamlen's hut probably leaked like no other. She finished her story by saying that she needed to get the Relic to get Castillon off her back and that she'd be in Kirkwall until then.

"I'll help you find the Relic if it'll get Castillon to stop chasing you." Hawke offered.

"Aren't you sweet." Isabela smiled. "I still don't know where it is, but you'll be the first to know if I do."

Hawke nodded and then healed Isabela's gash. It wasn't too bad and hadn't punctured any organs so it didn't take too long, though she was a little drained after both fights and the healing.

When she pulled her hands away from the healed wound, Isabela grabbed her hands and cleaned the blood off with a kerchief she pulled from Maker knows where. "I think I'll stick around. There might be something I could do for you." She released her hands and winked. "And I have a room at the Hanged Man if you're looking for… company later."

Isabela started to walk away, but Hawke grabbed her arm. "Actually… As it happens, I could use your help."

After a brief argument, Hawke convinced Aveline to go back to the barracks. She was still injured and sore and needed rest. When Anders sided with Hawke, Aveline really had no choice. She told her friend to be careful, specifically eyeing the pirate, and then followed them out of the Chantry and as far as the Viscount Keep before splitting off.

Anders handed her a lyrium potion as they walked. She glared at it. She really hated taking lyrium potions. They were too sweet and the consistency made her want to gag, but she was low on mana and didn't have time to meditate. Sighing, she took the vial and uncorked it. She had time on the way to Lowtown to sip it instead of being forced to drink it all in one go. This made it tolerable.

Anders had done the same.

"So…" Isabela started. "You're a mage."

"Very observant, Rivaini." Varric chuckled.

Clearly Varric had more information on Isabela than Hawke did, but that was generally how things went. Varric, apparently, knew everyone worth knowing. And had a propensity toward nicknames.

"Yes," Hawke answered Isabela's question. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all. I once met this mage at the Pearl back in Denerim who did the most amazing thing with electricity…"

Anders sputtered on his lyrium and blushed violently.

"Anders." Hawke grinned. "Well, well. We learn new things every day."

"I knew you looked familiar." He muttered.

"I didn't need to know this about either of you." Varric grumbled.

In a significantly better mood, Hawke finished her lyrium, picked up the pace, and jogged into the Lowtown market. She found Anso and slowed to a walk as she approached.

"Sorry that took so long. Now, what do you need?"


	24. Bait and Switch pt 1

**Author's Note**:

Surprisingly, I was able to get quiet a bit of writing done despite being consumed by Mass Effect 3 (awesome game, btw) and I have another chapter ready to go after this one as soon as I finish some minor tweaking, so expect that later today, probably in the evening.

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Constructive criticism is always welcome; suggestions too.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

As it turned out, Anso was apparently smuggling lyrium to the Templars in the Gallows. The people who had been helping him had stolen his supply and he wanted Hawke's help in getting it back. He was delusional if he thought the people who took it wouldn't put up a fight.

The fact that it was _lyrium_ made Hawke pause. Highly illegal, if someone got wind that she had helped do this, it could mean the end of everything she worked for. She was very, very glad she'd convinced Aveline and Carver to go home.

She sighed and muttered. "This had better be worth it."

She hadn't meant for the dwarf to hear it, but Anso reassured her that it would be well worth her time. He directed them to find a little hovel in the Alienage where his people were holding up. With that very descriptive information, Hawke and company left.

"He seem shifty to you?" Hawke asked the group.

"He's smuggling lyrium, of course he's shifty." Anders snapped. He had not been happy to find out that they were indirectly helping the Templars.

"He's new to the surface. Makes any dwarf a might twitchy." Varric added.

Hawke nodded. Anso's comment about falling up into the sky had almost made her laugh out loud. Isabela _had_ laughed. Thankfully, Anso didn't seem to get offended.

"He didn't strike me as a smuggler." Isabela said. "Didn't have the balls for it."

Hawke silently agreed, but without that connection to the Fade that allowed her to see a bit of what a person was like, she had no way of knowing.

Once they reached the Alienage, she felt like they were being watched. It was a creepy feeling. She tried to ignore it. She was far more interested in the sense of nearby lyrium. It was a huge amount if she could sense it without concentrating, and she could follow it to the right house.

Which was good. She didn't want to have to go knocking on doors asking if they had stockpiles of stolen lyrium. That would just be awkward.

"This one." Hawke said going for the door.

"How do you know?" Varric asked.

"She's right." Anders said. He must be able to sense it too. "The lyrium is close; it must be in here."

Hawke tested the door. It was unlocked. She found that highly suspicious, but didn't back down. The faster this was done, the faster she could put it behind her. She opened the door wide and walked in.

There were, of course, smugglers everywhere in the house, and they were ready for them.

She worried about potentially setting the house on fire, but lightning seemed safe enough since it limited itself to people. Anders seemed to concur and stayed away from fire in favor of ice. The main room was cleared quickly, despite the readiness of the smugglers.

Hawke opened the back door. No one inside, but that didn't stop Isabela from going through all of the barrels. She didn't find any lyrium, but she did find a few items that could be sold for coin. Moving on, Hawke headed to the next door. Varric stopped her.

"Trapped. Give me a moment." He knelt down and quickly disarmed the trap before opening the door himself.

There were more smugglers inside. They hadn't joined in the fight earlier because of the trap, but they did so now. Hawke slipped into the room and moved to the side to get out of the way of Isabela as she leapt (literally) into the fray. She opted to just focus the energy of her staff rather than consume mana on the rapidly falling smugglers.

Anders seemed to opt for simply beating them to death with his staff. He _really_ didn't like lyrium smugglers.

Once they were all dead, Isabela made quick work of looting the bodies while Anders healed minor wounds that Varric had taken by being the first one in.

Hawke was distracted. She couldn't sense the lyrium anymore. She hadn't noticed with the battle when it moved, but it wasn't here anymore. When Isabela looked at her questioningly, Hawke focused on her.

"Did you say something?"

"I asked where the lyrium was. The only chest in here is empty." She gestured to a chest in the corner.

"Bloody waste of time." Varric grumbled. "Who put us up to this?"

"It's gone." Anders had noticed too, it seemed. "They moved it?"

"When?" Hawke asked. "I didn't see anyone leave, did you?"

"Maybe you had the wrong house?"

"The dead smugglers suggest otherwise, Rivaini."

"I guess we have to no choice but to go back to Anso and tell him." Hawke sighed. This probably meant she wouldn't get paid. She winced when she used her injured arm to rub at her temple. She felt a headache coming on.

The wince did not go unnoticed. Anders hurried over and gently took her arm in his hands. "When did this happen?"

"Chantry." She muttered, shrugging.

Anders frowned and started healing. "You should have told me sooner. A cut is easier to heal when I don't have to kill an infection too."

She was duly impressed that he could talk and heal at the same time. She was beginning to see just how inept she was at this healing stuff. He wiped sweat off his brow and stepped back when it was done; he was pretty much spent at this point, she guessed.

"Come on." She said to the group. "Let's get out of here."

The agreed and filed out of the small room. Stepping over dead bodies, Hawke shook her head. There had to be a way to dispose of these without setting the whole building on fire. As it was they were just begging to spread disease and unrest. She'd think about it later when she wasn't quite so tired.

Hawke walked through the front door and stopped, stunned. Waiting for them was over a dozen men and women, heavily armed and armored. She heard her companions draw their weapons as they exited the building.

"That's not the elf."

_Elf_?

"It doesn't matter. We were told to kill whoever entered the house."

Not waiting for further argument, Hawke threw a fireball. She was really getting tired, her mana reserves were low, even with the lyrium potion that she'd taken earlier, and she was in no mood to deal with these would-be ambushers.

Anders called fire from the sky again and she hoped he would last the battle. He was possibly even more drained than she was. He gave no sign of being exhausted though, so she didn't tell him to stop.

She did decide to take a less magical approach this time. Wading into the fight, she helped take some of the heat off Isabela by using her staff in melee. It was an effective bludgeoning weapon after all.

She made her way through several thugs before noticing the mage. He was positioned in an alcove next to the building. She hurriedly threw lightning at him. An enemy mage was not something she wanted to have to face, but she hoped that having a second mage on her side would help. She signaled to Anders and he switched his focus to the mage as well.

Until he did something that Hawke had never seen before. Lifting himself in the air, the mage drew shimmering light around his body before disappearing completely. Hawke stood, flabber completely gasted, and almost ended up with a sword in the gut as reward. She managed to block and deflect the stab so it only nicked her side, but it was still painful. She jabbed the end of her staff into the knee of her attacker and then to his throat when he dropped, killing him.

When Anders shouted, she turned to see that the mage had reappeared on the other side of the battlefield and was casting another spell. This one produced a glowing sphere near herself and Isabela that steadily grew brighter. Though it was another spell she was unfamiliar with, she doubted it did anything pleasant. She ran, but the thing made it difficult, slowing her pace to a crawl. When it exploded, she was flung a few feet away and the impact was not at all gentle.

Royally pissed, she got up and did something surprising of her own. She'd been channeling energy as she rose, preparing to hit the mage with a blast of force, but when she threw it, a large boulder went along with the blast, knocking the mage off his feet. Varric finished him with a bolt through his skull and the fight was over.

"Loot the bodies." Isabela shouted, almost gleefully. She was quick to follow her own advice.

Anders was by Hawke's side almost before the rogue had finished speaking. She saw that he was sweating and shaking, but he waved off her attempts to dismiss him. He used what was probably the last of his reserves to heal her injuries, but he managed to stay on his feet.

"You shouldn't have done that." She muttered.

"Can't have our fearless leader fall because of unhealed injuries." He grinned weakly.

"I can heal myself, Anders." She told him. "I'm not as good as you are, but I can still manage."

He just shook his head. Apparently he didn't have a lot of faith in anyone else's healing abilities.

Hawke gathered her people as soon as they were done looting and headed to the stairs; she stopped at the base however, causing Isabela to nearly bump into her.

The lyrium. She could sense it again. It was close. And it was moving.

Before she could say as much, another armed and armored individual stepped down from the stairs. His weapon was still sheathed, however, so Hawke didn't immediately reach for her staff.

"I don't know who you are friend, but you made a serious mistake coming here." The man hissed. He then raised his voice as he commanded, "Sergeant! I want everyone into the clearing. Now!"

Hawke had her hand on her staff, but there was no great onslaught of thugs or rain of arrows. In fact, nothing moved for a few seconds. She was about to make a sarcastic comment regarding the impressive size of his army when suddenly there was movement.

A man staggered onto the landing behind the leader; she could smell the blood from the bottom of the stairs. "C-Captain." He dropped then, blood pouring over the ground where he landed.

Hawke was sure that the look on the Captain's face was probably priceless, but she couldn't focus enough on him to look. She was, instead, drawn to the sense of the lyrium as it moved ever closer. She was very curious to see why whoever had stolen the stash and killed this man was approaching.

What she did not expect was an elf.

Tall for his race, he stood a few inches taller than her own impressive height of 5' 10". Shockingly his hair was pure white, not grey or pale blonde, but actually white. It was also messy, hiding all but the tip of his ears behind the uneven locks. Though, more surprisingly and much more important, were the veins of light blue that seemed to be tattooed into his skin. She realized with a small gasp that these veins were lyrium, and that it had been this elf that she had been sensing.

"Your men are dead, and your trap has failed." He said to the Captain as he slowly descended the stairs, though he had not taken his eyes off Hawke and her group. "I suggest fleeing back to your master while you still can."

As the elf passed him, the captain grabbed him by the arm. "You are going nowhere, slave."

_Oh, the plot thickens._ Hawke thought silently.

She watched as the elf turned to face the captain and she did not feel one ounce of pity for the death that this slaver was about to endure. It probably spoke volumes to how tired she was, but she didn't jump when his marking flashed bright blue and he drove his fist through the slave captain's chest.

"I am not a slave." He sounded remarkable calm considering he had his hand inside someone's chest cavity. When he withdrew it, the man was dead without a mark to show for it.

She was impressed. She guessed it was the lyrium that allowed him to do that, but she'd never seen anything like it before. She had also never seen an elf carry a sword quite that big. It was a greatsword like the one Carver used and he carried it on his back like it weighed nothing at all.

When he turned to look at her, his moss green eyes did not avoid eye contact.

_Never had she seen a more tortured soul. He had gone through enough to break a lesser person, but he'd fought it, drawn strength from it. That didn't mean there weren't scars and wounds. He was fiercely independent and did not trust easily. He was also lonely, but very proud. He probably did not ask for help often. He was extremely intelligent, probably the most intelligent person she'd ever seen. But at the core of it all was a well of shame and hate._

She blinked rapidly to avoid tearing up and kept a calm face. She thanked the year of Diamond Back with Giles and the other Red Irons for giving her a really good poker face.

"I apologize." The elf spoke, unaware of what had just transpired. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so… numerous."

"Don't worry about it. We managed." Hawke gestured nonchalantly to the corpses. Weariness must have truly set in if she was acting so relaxed. Also, it was making her focus unreasonably so on the attractiveness of the elf's voice.

"So I see." The elf smirked. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a Magister's lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"That seems like a lot of effort to find one slave." Isabela commented behind her left shoulder.

"It is." Fenris agreed.

"But you're no ordinary slave." Hawke gestured to the dead captain. "The Magister is after you for those markings."

The elf chuckled. "Yes. I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice; even so, they have served me well. Without them I would still be a slave."

Hawke imagined it was a very painful procedure, probably what had turned his hair white. She couldn't imagine having that much lyrium under one's skin was anything other than painful.

Under normal circumstances, Hawke would probably come up with something wonderfully witty to say, but she was tired and she hated slavers the way Anders hated Templars.

"If they were really trying to recapture you, then I'm happy I helped."

"I have met few in my travels who have sought anything more than personal gain." He sounded surprised and apologetic.

Hawke sighed. "I find it to be a sadly common occurrence."

Fenris nodded. "If I may ask, what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

"It was empty."

He looked disappointed. "I suppose it was too much to hope for; even so, I had to know."

"You were expecting something else?"

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait. Nothing more."

Hawke nodded in understanding. He was unwilling to share exactly what he'd hoped it was, and she wasn't going to push. For now, she intended to help Fenris as much as he'd allow.

"You didn't have to lie to get my help, by the way." Hawke smiled, hoping to come off as friendly.

"That remains to be seen." Fenris moved to the body of the captain and began searching him. Clearly he found whatever it was he was looking for because rose with a very angry expression. "It is as I thought. My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help."

Hawke agreed readily and Fenris instructed her to meet him in Hightown before sunrise. He then headed off, presumably to keep an eye on the mansion until Hawke arrived.

"He's yummy." Isabela commented.

Hawke silently agreed.

"Okay. Anders, when we get up to Hightown I want you to take the lift down to your clinic." She explained as the group started moving.

"What? Why?"

"This is going to be yet another fight, probably a big one if we're fighting a Tevinter Magister—"

"All the more reason I should come with you." He objected.

"You're spent. You're shaking and can barely walk let alone fight. If you collapse, I won't be able to heal you without taking myself out of the fight leaving the rest of them vulnerable." Hawke didn't need Anders arguing with her the way Carver would.

"I'm not the only one who's exhausted." He said, frustration evident in his harried gestures. "If you think I don't see your shallow breathing after being flung across the Alienage, you are mistaken."

"Blondie, that probably has more to do with the healing lung than a little air time." Varric chuckled.

Anders stopped and stared at the dwarf and then raised a questioning brow to Hawke. In response, she sighed and slipped out of her leather vest—it was heavy anyway; she could do with a break—and pulled aside enough shirt to allow him to see the scar of the arrow that punctured her lung a year ago, ignoring Isabela's cat-calls.

"First mission with the Red Iron I took an arrow in the lung while guarding a worthless fop. I did what I could, but it still slows me down occasionally." She explained while he examined the scar. "I'm curious to know how _you_ found out, Varric."

"Please, Hawke," the dwarf grinned. "Information is my business."

"This wasn't healed right. There's lingering damage."

Hawke shrugged and pulled her shirt back into place. "I never claimed to be the best healer."

"If Hawke is done with the stripe tease," Isabela purred, "there's a former slave who could use our help."

"Isabela's right. Let's get going." Hawke grabbed another lyrium potion from the collection to sip along the way.

Once she was back in her armor, they set off. She tried not to go too fast, but time was of the essence so she didn't dawdle. They made it to Hightown fairly quickly and Anders did break off once they were at the Chantry. He gave Hawke a worried look, but he left without any more fuss.

"He's sweet on you." Isabela smiled.

Hawke shook her head. Anders was a healer concerned for a patient and ally. Nothing more. But she wasn't going to waste her breath trying to convince Isabela of that. Instead she started up the stairs to where the rich elite of Kirkwall put their mansions and ignored Isabela's teasing comments.


	25. Bait and Switch pt 2

**Author's Note**:

Slightly later than I'd planned, but I had a lot of sudden errands to run today. I apologize.

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Constructive criticism is always welcome; suggestions too.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

Fenris was waiting at the top of the stairs. Anxiety presented itself in every tense muscle of his lean frame and the scowl he occasionally threw at one of the mansions. When he saw their approach, he got right down to business. He explained that no one had left the mansion, but that he also didn't hear signs of anyone inside. Despite his cautioned warning that his former master might be ready for them, he was ready to burst through the doors and kill the Magister named Denarius.

"I could stand to know a little more about this Denarius." Hawke wanted to check and make sure this was the right move. It wouldn't be the first time tonight she'd been mislead.

"He is a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium."

Varric clearly didn't like the sound of that. "Oh, is that all? Nothing to be worried about then."

"There, he is a wealthy mage with great influence. Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

As determined as Fenris sounded, Hawke had her doubts. They were, none of them, at their best—except maybe Fenris—and if the stories were correct, Magisters were extremely powerful. This would not be easy.

Hawke squared her shoulders. "Let's get it done."

"Agreed."

She hoped that entering through a side door might give them an advantage, and that Denarius wouldn't expect his former slave to come fight him in his house. She hoped both of these would give them the element of surprise that could push the balance in their favor.

She should not have bothered.

He was not two feet into the house before he started shouting at the top of his lungs for Denarius to come out and face them. Fenris clearly despised his former master—with reason—but Hawke wondered if that hate might be getting in the way of his cognitive faculties about proper surprise attack etiquette.

Despite Fenris's shouts, however, nothing stirred. The house seemed rather dead to her. Still, they pressed on. When Varric noticed a trap up ahead, Hawke had to step in front of the elf to get him to stop long enough to let the rogue disarm it. When he was done, she stepped aside and gestured for Fenris to enter.

He begrudgingly thanked her and walked passed. She noticed that he took great care not to accidentally touch her. Considering the bright blue veins running across his flesh, she couldn't blame him. She would bet everything she had that they were, at best, uncomfortable or, at worst, enduringly painful.

Isabela and Varric followed and Hawke brought up the rear. She'd taken no more than a step away from the door when shades burst from the ground and attacked. Drawing her staff in front of her she was careful not to spend too much mana, though it was tempting. She'd never seen anything like it before: A nightmarish, semi-solid shadow with claws and a reek of death.

She used her staff as a bludgeoning weapon as much as she could and held on to her limited reserves for the fight with Denarius. As such, she was much more in the center of things than she probably should have been. A claw across her left shoulder taught her that much.

The battle finished, she took stock of her friends. No other injuries. Isabela was too quick and Varric had stayed to the back, out of melee range. They were fine and she relaxed a little.

Fenris was also unhurt, though he was even more angry. He shouted obscenities to Denarius as they continued on through room after room. A few more shades hassled them as they went, but for the most part, they were able to cut through them easily.

The rage demon gave them some trouble, however.

Hawke used the cold energy of her staff to add some icy damage to her hits. The added damage cost little in the way of mana and helped greatly against the fiery foe. She escaped that battle with another claw to her left shoulder—which was really starting to protest to this kind of treatment—but nothing major.

Fenris had a burn on his hand though.

Once he put his sword away, she walked cautiously up to him. "You're hurt."

"As are you." He said, not unkindly. Just stating a fact as she had.

"Will you let me take care of it? Burns can do nasty things if left untreated." She offered her hands to him, but did not force contact.

He gave her an extremely suspicious look then and edged away slightly. "What do you intend to do?"

She didn't have enough in her to do a proper healing, but if she could get some Elfroot on it, she could look at it later—or get Anders to look at it—and do a thorough healing then. The Elfroot would delay the infection and take care of the pain.

She withdrew an Elfroot leaf from her pack and showed it to him. He seemed to relax a little and held out his hand. Careful not to touch him with her skin, she filleted the leaf to expose the juice and applied it to the burn. When that was done she asked Isabela for one of her kerchiefs and wrapped it around his hand to keep his sword from irritating the area.

Fenris flexed the hand when she was done and nodded his thanks. They were on the move again once Varric found a key to what Fenris believed to be the main study.

Finally, they entered the main hall. It too was devoid of Magisters, but not empty of shades or traps. Isabela and Varric worked quickly to get the traps disarmed while dodging and ducking shades. Once the traps were gone, the rogues joined the fight.

Fenris was a sight to behold on the battlefield. He swung the greatsword with power and control, making it look effortless in the process. He was much better at it than Carver. He was fast too. Even when she didn't have her eyes on him, she could sense the lyrium in his skin move about the room with great speed.

The two of them cut through almost ten shades before the rogues finished disarming traps and at least six of them were his alone. She probably could have racked up a better score if she had used her mana, but she wanted to save it for the Magister.

When the rage demons showed up, she didn't hesitate to use the cold power of her staff to inflict extra damage. The demons were much stronger than the shades and she didn't have the strength to heal any burns at the moment, so she used whatever advantage she could to try to take them out.

At one point, the two rage demons began closing in on Fenris, pushing him back into the wall. They had him cornered and Varric and Isabela were busy handling a group of shades on the other side of the room. Just channeling the cold of her staff wasn't going to cut it. When she lost sight of him behind the wall of fiery demons, she gave up and drew on her limited reserves.

The wave of icy shards tore through the demons and they fell with a shriek. When they were gone (demons and shades seemed to melt into the floor when they died) and the ice had retreated, she saw Fenris. He was leaning on his sword, bloody from several gashes along the exposed parts of his arms, and _glaring_ at her.

She was taken aback. She'd never seen someone react to being saved with such… disgust.

Her moment of distraction cost her. The next thing she new, a searing pain spread its way across her back as a shade dug a furrow across her back from her left side down to her right. She cried out and dropped to all fours from the sudden pain.

From above her, she heard the elf give a defiant war cry before she felt him charge past her to cut down the shade that had attacked her. It seemed whatever displeasure he held toward her magic had been temporarily forgotten in favor of eliminating the shade.

She allowed herself time to steady her breathing as she heard the sounds of battle diminish. She didn't want to move; her back was killing her. She sensed Fenris's presence nearby, but it was Isabela's calloused hands that came in to remove her armor.

"Varric," the pirate ordered, "see if we have any bandages."

"How bad is it?" Hawke asked.

"Your armor is ruined." Isabela answered. "But I think we can save your skin with a little luck."

Hawke laughed a little through the pain. "That's cheerful."

Varric made his way into her field of vision and helped Isabela clean the blood off. "Can't you heal yourself?" He asked.

Hawke shook her head. "Running low on mana. Saving it for Denarius."

"If he's even here." Varric muttered.

She didn't say anything, but she was beginning to agree. If the Magister were really here, surely he would have attacked by now. Especially now that she was down and the others were distracted.

Isabela and Varric worked quickly to get her bandaged, adding a bit of Elfroot to the wound to numb the pain, and then helped her to her feet. Her shirt was tattered and bloody, but she kept it on in order to preserve her modesty.

When Hawke was steady again, Isabela passed her staff to her and she headed up the stairs to the study. Fenris and the others were quick to follow. She made sure to check the other two rooms before going to the main door. She wanted no surprises popping out to flank them as they had at the Chantry. When both rooms proved empty of life, she nodded to Fenris to unlock the main door.

As she suspected, no Magister resided on the other side. However, an Arcane Horror appeared behind them and immediately started casting spells.

The purple mist that surrounded them started sapping her and her companions of life and energy. She didn't know how it worked, but she was not going to stick around to observe it. In retrospect, what she did next was an extremely foolish move.

Hawke fought to move through the mist towards the Arcane Horror. She gathered momentum and tackled it, pushing both it and herself over the banister. This had the intended effect of ending whatever sick spell it had just cast, but also sent her falling to the hard ground below.

In some manner of luck, she landed on the Arcane Horror managing only to knock the wind from her instead of break anything. Despite desperately needing air, she quickly drew her knife and jammed it through the skull of the monster beneath her. She rolled off it and took the next several minutes to catch her breath, trusting her friends to take care of the shades that had also been summoned by whatever had brought the Arcane Horror.

When the sounds of battle ceased, she opened her eyes to see Varric and Isabela staring at her with a mixture of concern, amusement, and disbelief on their faces. She managed a grin and shrugged her right shoulder (the left still protesting life in general).

Shaking her head, Isabela helped Hawke to her feet. "That was unbelievably stupid."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time." Hawke said.

She saw that Fenris stood not too far off. She moved toward him and did not miss the flinch he tried to hide. She stopped, a little hurt.

The elf excused himself, saying that Denarius was not here and that he needed some air. He told Hawke that whatever valuables were in the mansion were hers to take as she wished and then he left the room.

She didn't let show that his reaction to her magic bothered her. Instead she turned to the others and told them to go back upstairs and search the rooms more thoroughly. She'd wait down here, unwilling to climb the stairs again.

The rogues returned with a fairly decent bounty and the three made their way to the exit. As they neared it, she sensed the lyrium was not too far away. He hadn't run off. Maybe he intended to talk after all? She took several deep breaths and told herself to be calm and relaxed. He was a potentially valuable ally if she could convince him to work with her.

Upon leaving the mansion, she squared her shoulders and tried to appear confident and relaxed. She found him not too far from the door, leaning against a stone column, apparently deep in thought.

"It never ends." He said when he noticed their approach. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn." He turned to look at her. "And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage."

Hawke didn't lose her relaxed posture, but that probably had more to do with her tiredness than any bravado. She was aware that not everyone was comfortable or sympathetic to mages and she was bound to come across someone who wasn't eventually. She hoped to still be able to work with him, though; his skill with that giant blade would be very handy.

He walked over to her, "I should have realized sooner what you really were."

She heard Isabela bristle behind her, ready to come to her defense, but she gestured for her to calm down. If Fenris was willing to talk to her instead of just lopping off her head, she hoped he'd be willing to work with her. She'd deal with his animosity for another good swordsmen.

"So tell me. What manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

"You want me to tell you and spoil all the fun?" She smiled. Fenris did not seem inclined to smile in return, but she couldn't bring herself to answer him seriously. He was highly suspicious of her, but she harbored no horrible secrets or sinister plots.

"You are skilled. I know that much."

"In more ways than one, I'm sure." The grin was apparent in Isabela's voice.

Varric chuckled at the pirate and added, "Not all mages are alike; Hawke may surprise you."

"I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize for nothing could be further from the truth." Fenris shifted, almost nervously. "I did not find Denarius, but still, I owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised, and if you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it." He handed her a coin pouch and she flinched in pain as she moved to take it.

Her back was informing her that it objected strongly to recent treatment and moving her arm was not pleasant. Reminded of the battle, she had a few questions for him.

"Your former master went through a lot of effort to quite probably kill you. He must want something more than just a runaway slave."

"He doesn't want me at all." Fenris scoffed. "Just the markings on my skin. They are lyrium, branded into my flesh to provide the power Denarius required of his pet. And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse."

Perhaps it was the pain, possibly blood loss, maybe it was the weariness finally getting to her, but somewhere between her brain and her mouth the filter that made sure she didn't say anything stupid or embarrassing quit. "Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf."

Her statement was surprisingly rewarded with an awkward but genuine chuckle from Fenris. She hoped she wasn't blushing too horribly and tried really hard to ignore the muffled laughing from Isabela.

Thankfully, Fenris continued as if she hadn't stuck her foot in her mouth. "In any case, I know nothing of the ritual that placed these markings on me. It was Denarius's choice, one he now regrets."

In order to prevent further foot-in-mouth moments, Hawke cut the question and answer short. She told him that she was planning an expedition and would welcome his help. In turn, he told her that if she needed to find him, he would be in the mansion.

She bid him goodnight as he went back inside. He merely nodded his head in response, but she felt like their talk was an overall victory.

She used her staff as a walking stick, leaning on it heavily as she led the way back to Lowtown. Isabela was kind enough to help her down stairs.

"If he wanted to be really helpful, Broody would help you hobble back to your place." Varric grumbled. He clearly did not like seeing Hawke in such a state.

"Broody?" Hawke smiled.

"If the shoe fits." The dwarf shrugged.

She shook her head. "I'm just happy he agreed to help us out."

"Mmm…" Isabela hummed, "he is something to look at isn't he."

"I was more interested in his fighting ability—"

"Right. Because you definitely weren't flirting with him." Isabela teased.

Hawke blushed. "I blame the blood loss."


	26. Bonding

**Author's Note**: Bit longer than normal, but I just kept typing :/

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Constructive criticism is always welcome; suggestions too.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

Varric and Isabela escorted her to the Hanged Man, placing her in Isabela's bed (Varric's being too small). When she'd requested avoiding returning to Gamlen's in her current state, the others agreed and offered to share their accommodations for what remained of the night.

Once she was on the bed, Varric set to work getting Nora, the barmaid, to bring clean water and bandages. Hawke had aggravated her wound when she catapulted off the balcony with the Arcane Horror and needed a clean dressing. Isabela, meanwhile, helped Hawke out of what remained of her shirt.

"Only known you a few hours and already you're getting me out of my clothes?" Hawke joked weakly. She was feeling a bit dizzy.

Isabela smiled. "Not even close to my record."

The pirate tossed the bloody rag that in a previous life had been Hawke's shirt aside and then carefully removed the blood soaked bandages. Varric and Nora returned with the water and clean dressings just as Isabela removed the last of the saturated ones.

"That'll be an impressive scar, Hawke." Varric commented.

Hawke waited until Nora left the room and shut the door before saying, "Tonight was horrible idea."

"Nonsense." Varric waved off her remark. "Think of the material! First you slaughter a vicious band of rogues, uncovering a nefarious plot orchestrated by a dirty captain of the guard, then you swoop to the rescue of a damsel in distress,"—Isabela snorted—"only to top off the evening by helping a runaway elf defeat a Magister all the way from Tevinter."

Hawke sighed. "Danarius wasn't there, if you recall."

"He's elaborating, sweetheart." Isabela had begun cleaning the wound.

Hawke winced as the wet cloth brushed against the claw marks, but tried not to flinch. The sooner it was done, the sooner she could go to sleep.

Varric shook his head disapprovingly. "Can't you just take a potion for this?"

"Don't want to waste them. I'll get Anders to look at it tomorrow."

"Couldn't you do it?" Isabela asked. "You patched me up just fine."

"The more I drain my reserves the longer it takes to get them back up. I'd need a lyrium potion anyway, and I am not taking a _third_ one. I hate those things."

Isabela finished cleaning the wound and then covered it with a fresh bandage and more Elfroot. When that was done, Varric bid the girls goodnight, returning to his own room. Isabela placed the blanket over Hawke and then fetched what looked to Hawke like a net from her closet.

"What's that?"

"It's a hammock." Isabela secured two ends of the hammock to the walls, "It useful when you're sleeping on a ship being tossed about by waves."

Hawke watched in fascination as the pirate slipped into the hammock. It looked cozy, but she believed she'd still choose a bed. The hammock did not look terribly stable. Isabela only laughed when she pointed this out.

She said goodnight to the pirate and then prepared herself to enter the Fade.

She was rudely awakened some hours later when her bandage was removed, dislodging her from the warm and comfy bed. She protested groggily and attempted to wave off whoever it was.

A large calloused hand caught her wrist. Cracking an eye open, Hawke saw that Carver was glaring at her.

"You are a moron."

"Good morning to you too, Carver."

"Actually, it's midday." Isabela said. Hawke tilted over to see the pirate. She was leaning against the doorframe casually drinking something from a mug.

"Try not to move." Anders said calmly. The healer was the one who had removed the bandages. He was examining her with a frown on his face.

"How bad is it?"

"It'll scar, but the Elfroot kept any infection away." Anders said as he started healing.

She felt better right away. She'd almost forgotten how much difference a competent healer could make in comfort. Her own abilities were too limited for her to worry too heavily about comfort, but Anders was able to make her relax instantly.

When it was done, she rolled over. Carver tossed a shirt at her before standing. Hawke wriggled into it, grateful to her brother for bringing one. "Did Varric send for you?"

"Varric sent straight for Anders this morning. I figured you'd need something to wear, so I fetched your brother." Isabela explained. "Your uncle is a prig."

Hawke just chuckled. She certainly didn't need Isabela to tell what she already knew. She stood and stretched, looking around the room as she did. Varric was absent, as were Aveline and Fenris (not that she expected them).

"Right." She loosened up preparing to meditate while addressing those currently assembled. "First thing I want to do today is check on Aveline."

"You should rest." Anders insisted.

"Can rest when I'm dead; for now there is too much to do." Hawke shook her head.

Carver grumbled, "You should at least stop by and talk to Mother."

"Fine. I'll make a quick stop at Gamlen's." Hawke sighed. "After that, we check on Aveline. Now, unless you want to watch me meditate, I'll meet you guys downstairs in half an hour."

Carver led the way out.

Hawke closed her eyes and began with the easy moves designed to loosen her muscles. She continued into deeper meditation and worked on making sure her reserves were back up to full. The sleeping had helped, but meditation would do the rest.

She finished with a flourish, just for the fun of it, half an hour later and opened her eyes. She nearly jumped when she saw that Anders was in the doorway.

"Sorry."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Do you always dance when you meditate?"

Hawke nodded, "Never could just sit there and breathe deeply."

"We never had the luxury of choice in the Circle. You were very lucky." Anders frowned.

"I know." She said calmly. She picked up her staff and walked towards the door. As she passed him she placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I'm on your side, Anders. Everyone deserves the choices I had."

He followed her quietly out of the room. She met the others (including Varric) downstairs and had a quick breakfast before leaving.

Stopping at Gamlen's to visit Leandra took longer than Hawke would have liked. She had to reassure her mother than she was alive and bore no ill effects from the night's adventure, though she made sure not to mention the scar. Leandra also lamented the loss of her armor. Her mother feared that she'd be in too much danger to go out and about without something to protect her. Hawke promised to buy another set, though she doubted she'd be able to afford it any time soon.

Before she left, she took the letters that were waiting for her on the desk. When she rejoined the others outside, she tore into the letters as she walked. She only half-listened to the conversations that her companions were having as she read, but she was happy they were getting along.

One of the letters mentioned a merchant in need of some help, so she made sure to talk to him on their way to the Viscount's keep. The Orlesian merchant rubbed her the wrong way, but she agreed to investigate his mine to help the Fereldens that he'd hired.

When they reached the keep, there was a loud ruckus coming from the barracks. Hawke quickened her pace and ran down the stairs in time to see Jeven arrested. Aveline looked very pleased with herself as her former captain was dragged off in manacles.

Hawke watched as the Seneschal appointed Aveline as the new Captain of the Guard and smiled. If there was ever a worthy candidate, it was her steadfast friend. The Seneschal left, leaving a still slightly dumbfounded Aveline in her new office. Hawke walked in and congratulated her. Hawke's presence seemed to snap Aveline out of it and she smiled, returning Hawke's congratulations with thanks and shook her hand.

"I'm going to guess and say you're a bit busy?" Hawke asked.

Aveline smiled again. "I suppose it would be bad form for me to run off just as I'm promoted."

"Don't worry. I've got lots of company to keep me out of trouble." Hawke gestured to her companions.

Aveline did not look convinced.

To change the subject, Hawke handed Aveline the note she'd taken from the Chanter's board. She asked the new captain to look into the Flint Company Mercenaries, see if she could find out where they were holding up. Aveline agreed and told Hawke that she'd get back to her when she had something.

With a nod of thanks and a last congratulation, Hawke left the barracks. As the group walked through Hightown, Hawke asked Varric what he knew about the Bone Pit. The legends sounded rather exaggerated, but the fact that bad luck seemed drawn to the mine was obvious. It also wasn't too far out of the city walls.

She decided to hold off in investigating, however. She needed to start making plans to go find the Dalish clan on Sundermount. Flemeth's amulet weighed more and more heavily on her mind and she had to fulfill her part of the deal.

She spent a good portion of the day talking with those assembled about finding the Dalish. She offered to go alone and not drag everyone on a three-day journey up the mountain, but her friends would have none of it. For all that they'd only known her a day or two, all of them were eager to help. She was glad that these, at least, were unbothered by her magic and willing to extend the hand of friendship.

When she asked them why they were so determined to stick around, Isabela laughed. "You're just too interesting for your own good, sweetheart."

Hawke grinned awkwardly. "I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"Don't sweat it, Hawke." Varric chuckled. "It's the good kind of interesting."

Hawke sighed with a smile and moved on to further planning. She enjoyed their company, and if they liked being around her too, all the better.

The Sundermount trip was tentatively planned for the day after next. The time in between would give everyone the chance to get what they needed for such a long journey and give Hawke a full day to recover after attacking the slavers in the Amell estate. She doubted she'd need it, but it never hurt to be prudent.

"Sounds like a solid plan." Varric commented. "I should get to work, spread some feelers out to see if I can pin down the clan's location." The dwarf excused himself and headed up to his room.

Anders was next to go, saying he needed to take care of some things at the clinic if he was going to be gone for a few days. Oddly, Isabela followed him out. She claimed she was going to help him pack, but Hawke—and Anders, judging by the look on his face—doubted that was the real reason. She let it slide, though, since she didn't want to pry.

Carver was the only one left at the table with her. "You want to clear out the estate tonight, right?"

"That's the plan."

"You going to leave me behind again?" He glared.

Hawke sighed. "Carver, you saw my back this morning—"

"I did. You should have brought me with you, maybe that wouldn't have happened."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Your new friends are all well and fine, but do you trust any of them at your back?"

"It wasn't their fault." Hawke defended.

"No, from what I hear it was a sodding mage-hating elf—"

"Who is also a brilliant swordsman and willing to help us out."

The argument was starting to draw attention. She gestured for Carver to shut up and headed for the door, her brother in tow. They stayed silent as they quickly ran to Gamlen's shack, but as soon as the door was closed, they started again.

"You know nothing about him; he could turn you in to the Templars without missing a single nights sleep."

"He doesn't want attention from the authorities any more than we do."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do. If you'd met him, you would too."

Leandra cleared her throat. The two siblings had completely ignored the fact that their mother was standing in the living room when they arrived. Now, they both looked at her and stopped yelling.

"Temperance, what is all this?"

"Carver is concerned for my well-being." She said sweetly. "I'm touched to tears." She blotted fake tears away from her eyes.

Carver groaned.

Leandra hid a smile with her hand, but Hawke saw the crinkling around her eyes. When she'd composed herself, Leandra said, "What's got you two at each other's throats, then?"

"She got injured because of a some elf with a chip on his shoulder about mages." Carver spat.

The amusement drained from her face. Leandra rushed over, "An elf attacked you?" Leandra asked more to Carver than Hawke.

"Fenris didn't attack me—"

"He just let you get sliced and diced by a shade."

Leandra gasped.

"Are you trying to give her a heart attack?" Hawke glared at her brother, then reluctantly lifted the back of her shirt. She hadn't wanted Leandra to know how bad it had been, but there was little she could do about it now. "It's all healed, see?"

Leandra inspected the scar, running her fingers lightly over it from end to end. Three parallel claw marks ran across the small of her back, starting just below the right side of her breast band, down to her left hip.

"Maker's breath."

"I promise I'm fine." Hawke said, turning back around and dropping her shirt back into place.

Leandra frowned, but she couldn't argue after seeing the scar rather than an open wound. "You still haven't replaced your armor."

"You're right. I forgot." Hawke acted the idiot. "I'll go do that now." Hawke walked quickly to the door.

"Aren't you going to go with her?" She heard Leandra ask.

"She's going shopping." Carver scoffed. "She'd just make me carry everything."

Hawke grinned as she left the shack. She'd had no real intention of getting new armor, but the more she thought about it, the more she came to believe that she should suck it up and dip into the Deep Roads fund to buy some more. She'd be no good on the expedition if she was dead.

She didn't like traveling alone however, especially when it was only an hour before sundown. She decided to visit her newest companion and see if he'd be willing to help kill a bunch of slavers. She had a feeling she knew what his answer would be, so she was in high spirits when she knocked on his door. She could sense him (more accurately, the lyrium in his skin) move toward the door. He paused long enough that she wondered if he was going to let her in, but finally the door opened a crack.

She looked around for anyone that might be watching, and then slipped inside. She shut the door behind her and climbed the stairs, following the elf. He gestured to a chair and she sat.

He picked up a bottle of wine off the table and uncorked it. "Aggregio Pavali. There are six bottles in the cellar." By the tone in his voice, she guessed that it was a very good or expensive wine and that finding six bottles all in one place was quite rare. "Denarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed."

"I can't imagine why they'd be put off." Hawke had no excuse this time. She was not injured, she was not tired; she was just plain stupid. Flirting with the angry, mage-hating elf? She was either stupid or crazy.

"You say what's on your mind, I'll give you that." Happily, she hadn't made him angrier. He even seemed to relax a bit. She watched as he took a drink from the bottle and then threw it against the far wall, shattering it. "It's good I can still take pleasure in the small things."

She was good at not jumping when something startled her. Her father had taught her to have a vise-like grip on emotions like fear and anger so she wouldn't lose control of her magic.

Since he seemed to enjoy the little display of destruction, she went for a relaxed response. "You could have offered me a glass first."

"There's more, if you're really interested."

"Perish the thought," she smiled. "How else would you redecorate the walls?"

She startled a laugh out of the elf and grinned wider in response. He may have disliked her and her use of magic when they first met, but he didn't seem so bad at the moment.

His momentary cheer faded as he sighed, "I wanted to leave my past behind me, but it won't stay there." Fenris sat down in a nearby chair and asked her, "Tell me, have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?"

She still wasn't really sure how everyone was able to tell she was from Ferelden. Her accent wasn't _that_ different from the Marchers, but it was like she had a sign around her neck.

She answered his question, though, "I've started a life here."

"And that's it? You leave it behind so easily?" He sounded almost offended.

"We fled the Blight and did what we could. Would you have done differently?" She should not be getting so defensive, but his tone set her on edge. Carver's remarks from earlier whispered in her head.

"No. That is, in fact, exactly what I have done." Now he really sounded angry. She did not want to fight with him. His posture relaxed a little, though, and he continued in a less angry tone. "I apologize. Your life is your own. It simply… sounds very familiar."

She decided to change the subject a little. "Do you intend to keep living here?"

"I haven't decided." He admitted. "For now it's as good as any other place. I would return to Seheron if I could, but… there is no life for me there."

She wasn't the best with geography north of the Free Marches, but if she remembered correctly, Seheron was an island near the Imperium. She was curious by what he'd just said, though, and asked, "Is that where you're from?"

"So I've been told."

"Were you very young when you left, then?"

"Perhaps."

Like the question of what he'd been expecting in the chest, this was clearly something he'd rather not discuss. She surrendered that line of questioning in favor of another. She was glad to just have a civilized conversation with him, and she was very curious.

"You've been on the run a long time?"

"Three years, now." He sighed. Three years of constant running and hiding would make anyone exhausted. "Denarius has a way of finding me—perhaps it is the markings? Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. I suppose there are advantages in numbers."

She had fully intended to tell him that in all likelihood it _was_ the marking that Denarius was tracking, but the last comment made her ask, "Haven't you sought help before?"

"Hirelings, when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance—until you." She was a little shocked he'd paid her the compliment, but he continued. "Denarius will not give up however. I await his return."

"What if he does give up?"

"Then I go to him. I will not live with a wolf at my back."

Hawke nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"If it comes to that. I doubt it will."

She wanted to steer away from this line of talk before he got upset again. He was being pleasant, despite his initial anger. "If you're looking to start a life, you could stay."

He thought about it for a moment and nodded. "I could see myself staying, for the right reasons." It was awfully close to flirting and she hid a smile. He was really a lot more agreeable that she had originally thought. "I should thank you again for helping me with the hunters. Had I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

More flattery. She decided not to tell him that she wouldn't have been available sooner. Instead she smiled, "Maybe I should be thanking Anso."

"Maybe you should." There was a laugh behind his words and she was pleased that the visit was going so well. "Perhaps I'll practice my flattery for your next visit? With any luck I'll become better at it."

She was truly shocked. It was a complete turn around from the night before, and for a moment she wondered if she was truly going mad. If she was, she didn't mind. She liked talking with this Fenris as opposed to being yelled at by last night Fenris.

Reminded of the reason for her visit, she jumped to her feet. "Would you be interested in helping me out tonight?"

"What do you need?" He asked, rising.

She explained about her family's old estate and it's current residents. As she suspected, he was more than willing to slaughter slavers with her. She believed it to be one of the better bonding exercises, right up there with breaking bread and shameless flirting.

"There's one little problem, though."

"Oh?"

"My brother, Carver, can be… an ass. I'm apologizing in advance."

"His actions are not yours; do not apologize." Fenris insisted.

Hawke nodded. There was a draft in the mansion as the sun finished setting, and her shirt was not as warm as it had been when she had armor over it. She moved closer to the lit fireplace to warm up. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Fenris joined her. The firelight made him look rather intimidating, but she didn't mind. She hoped he scared the piss out of the salvers before he killed them.

"Your armor: it was unsalvageable?" He asked.

She nodded. "The shirt too."

"Do you expect to face these slavers dressed as you are now?" He did not sound pleased at the idea.

"I suppose I could go completely naked." She joked. "It might keep them distracted while you and Carver kill them all."

She couldn't tell if he was smiling as he shook his head at her folly. She hoped so; he seemed to enjoy her sense of humor. "There are wardrobes here that still contain some of Denarius's belongings and those of his apprentices. You may be able to find something suitable."

"You'd have me wear something that belonged to Denarius?" Hawke asked a little stunned.

"I would not have you walk into battle naked." He countered.

She could not argue with that. She followed him as he led the way to another room. The wardrobe was dusty and had one of its doors hanging on one hinge. Hawke went through it, looking for something that fit and didn't reek of blood magic. Finally she found a soft green mage robe that felt clean.

The magic in mage robes was almost as good as armor when it came to protecting the wearer and many had additional properties designed to boost the mage's ability. There were not cheap.

She pulled it out of the wardrobe and held it up to herself to check the size. It looked as if it would fit and Fenris left the room to allow her privacy while she changed. She slipped out of her shirt and put the mage robe on. It did fit, but it also looked like a mage robe. If she was supposed to keep out of the Templar's sights, walking around in this could mean signing her death warrant.

She sighed. It would do for the night at least, but she'd be spending tomorrow trying to make it less conspicuous.

She walked back to the main room and found Fenris cleaning his great sword by the fire. She was again impressed at its size. She wondered what Carver would make of the elf wielding a sword as big as his own.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. We'll make a stop at my uncle's hovel to pick up Carver, and then to the Hanged Man for Varric."

Fenris nodded and sheathed his sword on his back before leading the way out of the mansion. He did not talk much on the way to Lowtown. Hawke opened her mouth to initiate conversation, but Fenris put a finger to his lips quickly. Confused, she raised an eyebrow at him. He guided her to the shadows of a pillar and pointed. Following his gesture, she saw what made Fenris cautious. Not too far from them stood a large group of city guardsmen. Something about them seemed off though.

When they moved off, she turned to Fenris. The elf was glaring at where the guards had been. "No love for the city guard?" She teased.

"Those were not guardsmen." He said, stepping out of the shadows and continuing on.

"What do you mean?"

"They are thugs that have gotten a hold of city guard armor in order to rob and kill whomever they come across. I've seen them slink about Hightown at night."

Hawke made a note to inform Aveline.

Suddenly she remembered another reason she'd planned on visiting Fenris that day. "Fenris, how's your hand?"

He seemed startled by the abrupt topic, but held out the injured hand for her inspection. The bandage was gone, but the burn was still angry and red. She asked his permission to heal it. He did not answer for a while, only stared at her. Finally he nodded.

She was fairly quick about it. She made sure to do it right, but the area was small and the burn wasn't so bad. She made sure not to touch his hand while she did it though. She was still cautious about physical contact because she didn't know whether or not it would hurt him. When she finished, he thanked her and then quickly continued.

They made it to Lowtown in good time and Hawke gathered Varric and Carver just as she planned. Her brother was _not_ happy to see the elf. She hoped he'd get over his animosity once he saw Fenris fight.

She led the way down to Darktown and to the secret entrance to the Amell mansion. She grinned mischievously when she unlocked the door and climbed the stairs up. Fenris and Carver were close behind, with Varric bringing up the rear.

They met little direct opposition at first. Little fights in one or two rooms. Fenris was ruthless and efficient. He shared her dislike of slavers and it showed in the way he sliced through them.

When they were exploring one of the side rooms, Hawke caught a glimpse of what had to be the Amell crest. She went over to it and thought it would be grand to take it back to her mother, but it was large and rather attached to the wall. She went over to the chest that was next to it while Carver examined the crest. She found a few bits and bobs and a letter that appeared to be very old. She stowed it for later examination and continued through the cellar.

The only real fight they had was in the room with the ring leader. He turned out to be a mage and did not play fair. She was glad she'd brought Varric. The dwarf spotted the trap on the floor and disarmed it while the others kept attackers off of him. Once he was finished, Hawke went after the mage.

She found him in a corner preparing some spell. She focused on the same energy she'd used last night and flung a boulder she'd summoned from nowhere. She'd hoped that the spell wouldn't rely on stones on the ground, and she was right. The slaver mage was knocked on his ass and Fenris moved in a blur of blue and took his head off.

There were more slavers to kill however, so she turned, her staff at the ready, to find her next target. Five men surrounded Carver, so she sent a bolt of lightning. It hit three of them; none of them fell. Angry, she ran up behind them and sent shards of ice to tear at them.

Carver by this point had shifted his focus to the other two that had been behind him, trusting his sister to take care of the others. Several old fashion swings of her staff later, the three slavers were dead. She looked around for her next target.

It seemed it was Varric's turn to be surrounded, though he only had four and his back was safe up against a wall. She sent one on the far end sprawling with her new spell aimed at his face. He landed and did not get back up. She sent lightning to the other three; one dropped with an arrow in his throat, the other two received broken kneecaps from her staff for being obstinate. A few easy arrows from Varric and they were dead too.

More slavers joined the fray. Some came in from other rooms, and started engaging her friends. Two others dropped from the rafters around her. One managed to knock Hawke down, almost landing on her. She got her staff up to block the attack from his sword, but she was on her back. He'd have the advantage until she got up.

She heard two war cries; one she recognized as Carver, the other she believed to be Fenris. She hoped they were all right, but she could do naught while fending off her own attackers. She was only having moderate success. One of them grabbed her staff and was trying to pin her hands down with it. The other came up and readied a strike at her midsection. When she was at the apex of his swing, she curled her legs close to her and then kicked up, squarely landing two heels in his abdomen. He stumbled back and lost his head when Carver came up behind him. The pressure eased up suddenly on her staff. She got to her feet with a hand up from Carver. When she turned to see what had befallen the other slaver, she saw Fenris standing over him.

It was quiet again.

"Everyone alive?" She asked.

Carver had several shallow gashes and one deep one in his back; Varric bruised, but not bleeding; Fenris was unhurt. She herself had a sharp pain in her left wrist and some very colorful bruises. She guessed it was sprained, but there could be a fracture.

She healed Carver's hurts completely. Varric was fine for now, and she would see Anders after this for her own injury. She needed her wrist to work properly and if she could get Anders to do it instead, she'd feel more confident about the quality of the job.

The slaver mage had the key up to the vault on his person. She took it along with his coin and went to the door at the top of the stairs. The vault was surprisingly small considering, but that made finding the will all the easier. Once she had it—and the contents of the other chests—they left.


	27. Family Ties

**Author's Note**:

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Constructive criticism is always welcome; suggestions too.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

Since Anders' clinic was right by the Darktown entrance, that is the one they used to leave the estate. The four walked into the clinic and looked around for the mage. Varric was the most relaxed of her companions, she noticed. She knew Carver disliked Anders, so she wasn't surprised he disapproved of being here, though he was smart enough not to startle any of the patients. Growing up with three healers had taught him that much at least.

Fenris was the wild card. He was hard to read, though his posture hinted that he was probably as pleased to be here as Carver was. Though if that was in regard to Darktown or the clinic specifically, she wasn't sure.

"Why are we here?" He asked quietly.

Hawke held up her wrist in way of an answer, though this seemed to make the elf more confused.

That is when Anders walked out of one of the back rooms. Seeing Hawke he smiled, then seeing that all four of them were covered in blood—mostly not their own—he frowned and hurried over.

"What happened?"

"Minor disagreement with some less than reputable house guests." Hawke explained.

Anders grinned, but it didn't stay long on his face. He got to work examining Hawke for injuries. She stopped him, and drew his attention to her wrist. It was the only thing hurt.

"You do realize you're covered in blood, right?" Anders asked when she told him this.

"Not mine, obviously."

He sighed and wrapped his hands around her wrist to begin healing it. She wondered why, since she herself could heal someone without touching them, and she'd seen him do it the first time they met.

Carver noticed too, apparently, and did not approve. He grumbled something under his breath about vexing, handsy, possessed mages and glared at Anders. She wished she could reach around and box his ears for his comment, because judging by the growl that was now coming from Fenris, his keen elf ears had heard as well.

She was going to tell Fenris about Justice, eventually, but she had planned on easing into it. Now it seemed she'd have to do some very quick damage control before the elf lopped off Anders' head.

Thankfully, Varric came to the rescue. He ushered Fenris out of the clinic and presumably talked him down from killing Anders, because by time they came back, the elf was no longer reaching for his weapon, though he scowled darkly at Anders.

She wish she knew what had been said, but it didn't seem like Varric was willing to share at the moment, so she let it go. She thanked Anders, instead, for healing her wrist.

"Need me for anything else?" Anders asked.

"Varric?" Hawke asked. She always asked before offering mage healings; it was just polite.

The dwarf shrugged. "A few bruises won't kill me."

"I can take care of the blood, if you'd like." Anders offered. The way he wiggled his fingers implied he knew a spell for removing blood from clothes.

Interested, Hawke nodded. When the spell was done, she was clean again. As were Carver and Varric. Fenris had taken a step back to avoid being magicked.

When she raised an eyebrow at him, he offered no response. She guessed that he tended to avoid being exposed to magic whenever possible. Though, he had let her heal his hand earlier, so it could be that he just didn't like Anders.

When she turned back to Anders, he was staring at her. "Anders?"

He shook his head a little and then apologized, "Sorry. It's just… you look like someone from the Circle."

"Oh, the robes." She frowned. "They're kind of obvious aren't they?"

Carver huffed his agreement from behind her.

"It was better than nothing." She told him.

"Actually, I was just thinking… I had friend like you once. Got into all sorts of trouble; dragged me along too. You look a bit like her." Anders said pensively.

Hawke sighed, "She have a name?"

"Mari Amell."

"The Hero of Ferelden? You get more and more interesting, Blondie."

Carver flung his arms up in frustration and groaned. He said a few things under his breath and then turned to Hawke, "I've had it up to here with Blighted Amells! I'm going to the Hanged Man."

"Carver!" Hawke called after him, but it was too late, he'd already stormed off. She sighed, frustrated and turned to Varric.

"I'll make sure he gets there in one piece, Hawke." He said before she could ask. He hurried off to catch up with Carver.

"Was it something I said?"

"We just finished clearing out our family's old estate." Hawke explained.

Anders still looked confused until Fenris added, "The Amell estate."

Anders seemed to think this over for a few seconds. "Does attracting trouble run in the family then?"

"Among other things." Hawke nodded.

Anders rubbed the back of his neck nervously and flashed a quick glance at Fenris before asking Hawke, "Do you have a moment? I've been meaning to talk to you."

Hawke nodded and then turned to Fenris. "You don't have to wait for me if you don't want to."

"I cannot repay my debt to you if you are killed in Darktown; I will stay." Fenris said.

She almost smiled, but managed to simply nod instead. She turned back to Anders and followed him to the back of the clinic. "What's on your mind?"

"I wanted to apologize. I got a little weighty when I told you about Justice. And then what happened…"

"It's alright. You'd be surprised what people tell me. I must look trustworthy." She tried to lighten the mood.

"You look… something. True. Proud. Like, even if you don't agree with me, you'll be honest." She thought it was kind of an odd description, but he kept going so she didn't comment. "I just… hope I didn't hurt you earlier with Justice. I didn't know that would happen."

"I admit, it was a bit unusual." Hawke grinned, hopefully to make him stop worrying about it. There was nothing he could have done.

He nodded. "You have to understand. I thought: a willing host, a friend, it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"We can't always predict the outcomes of our actions." She certainly hadn't predicted how much looking into the eyes of a possessed man would _hurt_. Just thinking about it made her head hurt. "But that doesn't mean we don't pay for them."

"True enough. I knew you'd be honest." He smiled, and then blushed a little. "Sorry, I shouldn't presume. It's just, we've hardly met and I feel like I know you."

"It happens sometimes," she tapped the corner of her eye, "with other mages." She didn't want Fenris to know she could essentially see into his soul. It was something that not everyone was comfortable with.

Anders nodded with another smile. Hawke was glad that he was in a good mood. She was still determined to stall the progression of Justice as much as possible. Anders was about to speak again, when the door to the clinic opened. In hurried two elves, one was very bloody and leaning on the other for support.

"Excuse me, I need to take care of them."

"No problem. I'll see you later." Hawke and Fenris took their leave as the healer took care of his new patients.

She led the way rather quickly out of Darktown, not wanting to stay very long in the dank, grimy portion of the city. When they reached Lowtown, she slowed a bit, taking time to enjoy the evening air.

"He is dangerous." He was quiet, but that didn't make his words less severe.

"Everyone has the potential to be dangerous, Fenris."

"Not everyone is an abomination."

She sighed. There would be no changing his opinion of Anders. If she didn't do something about it, he'd be right too. "He isn't there yet. I'm trying to stop that from happening."

"You cannot stop what is already done, Hawke."

She sighed and chose to believe otherwise.

He walked her to the Hanged Man and nodded farewell before heading back to his mansion in Hightown. Carver was inside with Varric. Both were going over what Hawke guessed was the will. She came up to them and the two proceeded to inform her that Gamlen had stolen everything that had been meant for Leandra. She read the will herself, and then gathered Carver to go confront Gamlen.

He was, of course, completely unapologetic, but Leandra didn't seem to be as upset as she had been since coming back to Kirkwall. It meant a lot to her to know that her parents didn't hate her for running off with a Ferelden apostate. She even seemed to hold herself differently, more confidently. She began making plans to reclaim the estate.

Hawke smiled, happy for her mother. She even felt better herself, knowing that her grandparents loved her despite not ever seeing her. She walked over to Carver eager to share in her good mood.

"Well hello there, _Lord_ Carver."

"We're still a long way from cowing Templars with our title, sister." He did not seem happy at all.

"You could slap on a smile for a few days. For her sake."

"She's not interested in what I think. She wants to provide for us." He turned to glare at Hawke then, "And you're making sure that happens, and when we're done… I don't know. Maybe we'll sit around thinking how great we _used_ to be. Mother didn't even want that life back before we got dumped here, and you only care because we're under Templar scrutiny."

Hawke was a little surprised at the outburst, but she shouldn't have been. Carver was never one to put a good light on anything. "You hating everything I do is really losing its charm."

"Sure, make light. Why take anything seriously? You're the eldest, you lead by default."

"I don't see you taking the reins." She was starting to get a little hurt. She was just trying to take care of everyone like her father had asked. Was he really so upset because of that?

"When am I supposed to do that? When I'm following you around, or when I'm caring for Mother while you tame mighty Kirkwall?" He glared at her then. "Besides we both know what happens when someone leaves dear sister's protection. I'm sure Bethany would appreciate you're keeping good humor."

She could slap him! And she would have if it suddenly weren't really hard to breathe. Was he blaming her for Bethany's death too? She quickly gathered her composure. She would not let this ridiculous sibling rivalry make her feel even worse about losing her sister.

"Fun's fun, but you're taking this pissing match too far."

"What? You don't like someone making a joke of everything you are?"

"I don't see the humor in digging up Bethany just so you can hide behind her too!"

Carver glared, but seemed to realize what he'd said and looked away, ashamed. She hadn't meant to turn this into a shouting match. She didn't want to yell anymore, so she turned away. "Good talk."

"Tempy." Carver called her back. "I feel… I don't know. It's like Mother taking everything out on us. She's just scared." Hawke waited for Carver to say it on his own. He was putting forth the effort to apologize; she could wait. "I don't have a place in the life she is trying to bring back."

Hawke wanted to object, his place was to be a good son and maybe a halfway decent brother, but he wouldn't accept that. It was not the answer he was looking for.

"I'm here if you need me, but I _must_ find my own way."

She did understand, as much as he may not believe it. She understood that he was tired of living in the shadows, never having the chance to shine on his own. Joining the King's Army had been the first time he could say that he had done something with himself, and that had ended in disaster. She hoped he found his way, but for now she would do as she always had.

That night, after everyone had gone to sleep, she went over the old letter she'd found in the estate. It mentioned a mage that had helped in her father's escape from the Gallows. She wondered if he was still there. If he was, maybe he could she some light on the other part of the letter. It wasn't very clear, but it sounded just as important to Malcolm as the mage's involvement.

She'd go tomorrow to see if he was still there, though she would take the time to alter the robes Fenris had given her. With luck—and Leandra's masterful needle skills—she might be able to wear it without screaming "Mage here!" to everyone in sight.

She woke with the dawn the next morning, despite the somewhat late hour she'd returned from Darktown. It would take a few hours to get the mage robes functional and yet not obvious. Leandra helped a great deal in the process, and with the two of them working on it, Hawke was able to modify the garment. In the end, it was no longer than a tunic, but the magical protection covered her vitals, and that was the important part. She put it on with her pants underneath and looked down at herself. It could easily pass as a normal person's outfit. She was pleased.

As was Leandra, but for other reasons.

"This is really a lovely color on you. It matches your eyes so well."

"It was the only one not tainted by blood magic." Hawke reminded her. She hadn't chosen it for the aesthetic.

Leandra waved the comment off. "Yes, yes, but how fortunate that it's so flattering. Much better than that bulky vest you had before."

"Mother, I'm fighting bandits and slavers, not trying to find a husband."

"No reason you can't do both."

With that, Hawke left. There would be no talking to her until she'd found something else—hopefully Carver—to draw her attention away from finding Hawke a husband. She really did have the silliest notions. Hawke blamed the discovery of the will for her most recent determination.

She dashed to the Hanged Man to see if Isabela or Varric could spare an hour for a trip to the Gallows. It seemed like a Bad Idea to go alone, but she really doubted Carver or Fenris would be willing to go, and she wanted to keep Anders away from Templars.

With both rogues in tow, Hawke caught a ferry to the Gallows. She hadn't been there in over a year and didn't exactly relish being back. As much as she stayed casual and flippant about it around her friends and family, Hawke was truly terrified of ending up in the Gallows, locked away forever or made Tranquil.

No one harassed her, however. She was even able to ask a Templar if he knew of Tobrius, the mage mentioned in the letter. He directed her to a small alcove near the arms traders and even politely tipped his head when she thanked him.

"This is almost disturbingly easy."

"I think he was too busy staring at your ample bosom to notice you're a mage." Isabela grinned.

Hawke scoffed. "He was wearing a helmet, you have no idea where his eyes were. More likely is that he was staring at _your_ chest." Hawke pointed out. "There's certainly more of it."

Isabela giggled and shook her head. "You can be really blind, Hawke."

"You just like to make up fantasies; never mind what really happened." Hawke countered.

"Nothing wrong with a little fabrication every now and again." Varric piped up.

"Especially when the fantasy is so much better." Hawke saw Isabela wink and laughed. The pirate was really something else.

She found Tobrius and he recognized her as being Malcolm's daughter. She had his eyes, he said. He looked at the letter she'd found and wistfully told her of her father's escape and the Templar that had assisted him. Tobrius said he had other letters and that he would bring them to her, so she agreed to wait.

It wasn't long before he returned. He handed her the letters and said with a sad sigh, "So few like your father remain. Even fewer like the Templar. Rest well at the Maker's side, Ser Maurevar Carver."

With that he took his leave. Hawke quickly began reading the letters. Seeing her father's handwriting again was bittersweet, and she left the Gallows with her head buried in the letters. It became clear to her that these were something Carver aught to have. As much as she missed her father, these would mean more to her brother.

On the ferry ride back to the city, Varric and Isabela decided to engage Hawke in conversation. "So. The Hero of Ferelden…"

"We're distantly related, Varric," Hawke said with a smile, "I never actually met her."

"Pity. She was a lot of fun." Isabela smirked.

"I'm sure."

"You realize a connection like this will just add credibility to your story." Varric supplied.

"My story?"

"The tale of your exploits, as told by Varric. Should be interesting to say the least." Isabela said.

"What makes me interesting enough to have my exploits recounted to a bar full of drunks?"

"We story-tellers have a sixth sense about these things. Trust me."

With that, Hawke tucked the letters into her pack and got ready to disembark. She told the others to get whatever else they needed done ready for tomorrow and that she'd meet them in the Hanged Man in the morning.

She returned to Gamlen's and found Carver by the fireplace. She fished the letters out and handed them to him. For once, he seemed pleased. She was right in believing it would mean a lot to him, discovering his namesake. She did get in one or two jabs about him being named after a Templar, but he took it in good humor this time. She was glad she had the chance to smooth things over after the argument the night before.


	28. Travel Preparations

**Author's Note**:

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Constructive criticism is always welcome; suggestions too.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

Sorry for the delay in posting. The end of the semester is always hectic.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

* * *

><p>"So, are you ready for tomorrow?" She asked.<p>

Carver nodded. "Mostly. This blade is wearing down though; it'll only hold an edge for so long."

"We'll have to see about getting you another one." She hoped they'd be able to afford one. She looked at the sun through the tiny window and estimated another five hours to sundown. "We have time, if you want to do it now."

Carver nodded and put his old blade aside by the fireplace. He joined her on her way out the door and followed her to the Lowtown markets. They spent about an hour searching, but ultimately found nothing worthwhile.

When they decided to try Hightown, Hawke suggested they pick up Fenris. She was a little surprised that Carver actually agreed. It seemed that he had found the elf companionable enough while cleaning out the slavers.

As she approached the rundown mansion, she looked around cautiously. She didn't want any nobles to know that there was an ex-slave elf living in one of their precious mansions. They may go run crying to the Viscount to have him removed. Which would not end well.

Sensing him inside, she tapped out a rhythmic response, just for fun. She found it amusing that she could sense his exact location within the house and knew when he moved from the bedroom upstairs to the door. He, at least, would never be able to sneak up on her.

When he got close enough to the door she whispered, "It's Hawke."

The door opened and Fenris allowed them to enter. Hawke shut the door behind Carver and watched in silent amusement as the elf and her brother sized each other up; nothing confrontational; just two skilled swordsmen estimating the skill of the other. When Fenris nodded and then turned his attention to Hawke, she guessed that he probably won their little competition.

"You have need of me?"

"As it happens, yes. I am pretty terrible at judging a decent blade, and Carver needs a new one. I was hoping you could help us out? Another expert eye is always useful."

To her surprise and relief, neither objected. The three left for the Hightown market and she was rewarded with conversation. When Carver let slip that they were headed to Sundermount in the morning, Fenris wanted to know why.

"I assume you have a reason for going out of your way to find the Dalish."

"I have a debt to repay." Hawke told him. She did not want to mention Flemeth. The Witch of the Wilds made her nervous at best; she couldn't imagine Fenris's reaction would be at all pleasant.

He did understand the need to repay a debt, however, and nodded. "You expect trouble."

Carver scoffed, "When is there not trouble? Can't throw a stone outside the city walls without hitting a bandit or thief."

She hated to admit it, but Carver had a point. There certainly seemed to be a high outlaw population around the city. She doubted the trip up to the elves would be uneventful.

"You are, of course, free to join us if you'd like to." Hawke offered.

"Do we really need to drag so many people up and down a mountain? Surely they have better things they could be doing." Carver demanded.

"Did you not just finish complaining about the number of highwaymen outside the city?" Hawke smirked.

Before Carver could answer, a snide voice from their left, near the stairs to Darktown, summoned them. "You there, Ferelden!"

"Oh, this should be good." Hawke muttered. She walked over to the richly dressed man with the pinched face and wondered if he'd taken a bite out of a lemon recently or if his face was just naturally that way.

The man turned out to be a Magistrate with no apparent sense of humor. He was looking for help to track down and recapture a fugitive who had escaped custody, though he was annoyingly vague as to what the fugitive was arrested for. He warned her of monsters in the caves where the fugitive was holed up, but she assured him she'd be able to handle it. He showed her the cave on a map and then promised coin for the fugitives safe return.

As she walked away, she wished she could have gotten coin up front. It would have helped taken care of purchasing a new sword for Carver. And for Fenris. The more she looked at the sword on his back, the more she found wrong. The blade was chipped, the leather on the hilt was ragged and coming undone, and it did not look particularly sharp despite the sharpening she'd seen him give it just the day before.

She knew better than to bring it up though. He would not take kindly to her offer to buy him a new one. He would see it as charity or pity. She'd have to come up with a way to suggest he procure a new one.

Happily, she found Aveline in the market. Seeing her friend in uniform reminded her of the gang that she and Fenris had run across the other night, so she decided to inform her; as any good citizen should.

"Aveline!" Hawke smiled.

The redhead grinned, "Hawke."

Carver had already started browsing the blades for sale and apparently tuned out his sister, but Fenris remained by her side, perhaps curious to meet Hawke's friend, or maybe as her bodyguard in case the guardswoman decided to try anything.

Either way, introductions were in order. "Fenris, this is my friend, Guard Captain Aveline Valen. She came with us from Ferelden."

"Captain of the Guard?" He asked.

"A recent appointment." Aveline nodded.

"I'm actually glad we ran into you. I've got some things that you might be interested in." Hawke said.

Aveline focused her attention on Hawke. "I have something for you as well. Flint Company seems to be everywhere. I've got contacts placing them in the Docks, on the Wounded Coast, and all the way up Sundermount."

Hawke whistled appreciatively. It would take a while to root them all out. "Any idea on numbers?"

"A few dozen; the reports vary."

"We'll take care of the ones on Sundermount on our way to see the Dalish." Hawke decided.

"You're delivering the amulet. When?" Aveline asked.

"Headed out in the morning. We'll be gone a few days." Hawke told her. "I'd ask you to join, but I didn't know if your new duties would get in the way."

"Mostly paperwork at this point; nothing I wouldn't mind getting away from for a few days. Besides, it's as much my debt as it is yours. I should be there."

Hawke was not going to argue. She always felt safer having Aveline at her back, and she was right about sharing the debt. She told Aveline to meet her at the Hanged Man in the morning and then thanked her for offering to come. Aveline brushed it off as nothing, but Hawke was still glad for her company.

"You had something for me?" Aveline asked.

"Oh! Yes, actually, Fenris was the one who pointed it out to me," she explained quickly, "There is a gang wandering around Hightown at night dressed in the uniform of the guard."

Aveline frowned. "You're certain?"

Hawke described the encounter she and Fenris had with the gang the other night, and Aveline asked Fenris several questions since he had more information than Hawke did. She relaxed a little when Fenris answered Aveline's questions without problems. She thought the two might get along well and didn't want Aveline's position to cause a problem.

When Aveline had what she needed from the elf, she thanked him for the information and took her leave saying she needed to look into it, but that she would meet Hawke in the morning.

When Hawke and Fenris rejoined Carver, he'd narrowed his options down to two blades. She conferred with Fenris who suggested that, while fine choices, Carver had completely ignored the great battle-axes and mauls also available. She knew that her brother preferred a sword to axe or maul, but she found Fenris's versatility impressive. When Carver made his preference known, Fenris told him, of the two, the one on the left was better.

In the end she purchased the sword Fenris had suggested, but she made a mental note to come back later and pick up one of the axes that Fenris had looked at admiringly. She'd find an excuse—or have Varric make one up—to give it to him.

From there, the three picked up Isabela from the Hanged Man. She'd have asked Varric, but he wasn't there, and she wanted to get the Magistrate's request done today. When they got there and heard what the fugitive had done… For once, Fenris was not the angriest person in the group. She promised to kill the bastard if he was still alive, ignoring the guard who warned her about crossing the Magistrate.

The monsters in the cave turned out to be giant spiders. Nothing they couldn't handle. When the shades and Arcane Horror showed up, Hawke spared no magical expense to remove them. She had no interest in adding another scar. Happily, she didn't need to vault over any balconies to kill the Arcane Horror this time.

When they found Lia, Hawke was kind. She did not scare the girl or raise her voice even when she begged Hawke not to kill Kelder. Hawke groaned quietly when she heard Lia's plea in protection of her kidnapper, but assured her that she would do no harm to him if he cooperated.

When Lia ran off to find the entrance, Fenris and Isabela looked at Hawke skeptically.

"Obviously I was lying." She said.

When they found Kelder, she listened to him and wished she hadn't. The man was insane, delusional, and just plain sad, but that in no way excused his actions. She allowed Fenris to rip his heart out and then left his body to rot.

She accepted the gold that Lia's father gave her for saving his daughter and went back to the city to have a talk with the Magistrate. In her mind he was equally as guilty for protecting his son from proper justice and allowing him to continue in his depravity.

The Magistrate was uninterested in talking however. When she approached him, he sneered at her and left, passing a coin into the hand of a guard she recognized from the cave. Apparently, someone tipped him off that she had not complied with his wishes.

"Do you think he'll be a problem for us later on?" Carver asked.

"His protests will not get far." Fenris growled.

Hawke nodded. "He went too far when he hid his son from the law. No one will be on his side."

The group went their separate ways, promising to meet at the Hanged Man in the morning. Carver and Hawke went back to Gamlen's and had a late dinner with their mother. She spent a good portion of dinner warning them of the potential dangers of meeting with the Dalish. Her worries were assuaged for the most part when Hawke told her that Aveline would be joining them, but she still despaired at how long the trip would take. Carver reminded her that they had no choice that the debt to Flemeth had to be repaid before storming off to his room. Hawke helped Leandra with the dishes before going to sleep herself.

The next morning, she was up early. She spent a full hour meditating to make sure her reserves were at full (they were) and that she had no residual stiffness from her injury (she didn't). Carver stepped out of his room near the end of her meditation and engaged her in a round of sparring almost as soon as she was done. When they were done, breakfast was ready for them. Leandra made sure they ate a good meal before sending them of to climb a mountain.

After a quick wash after breakfast, Hawke gathered her pack, staff, and brother and left. When they got to the Hanged Man, Isabela, Varric, and Aveline were already there waiting.

"So, Isabela. You're a captain?"

"That's right, big girl. What of it?" Isabela smirked.

"I don't remember your name on any registries. Every ship that docks has to declare." Aveline said calmly, but with an undercurrent of warning.

"I never docked, and you're no port authority."

Aveline narrowed her eyes, clearly displeased. "And you… are no merchant."

"Ooh... scrutiny."

Hawke decided to step in before one of them threw a punch. "Play nice."

Realizing Hawke had arrived; Aveline stood straighter and chose to ignore the pirate in favor of clasping Hawke arm in greeting. "About time you showed up."

"We're not even the last ones here." Hawke smiled.

Aveline nodded to Carver and then continued her conversation with Hawke. "How many more are we expecting?"

"Two." Hawke answered.

Aveline shook her head, "Bringing everyone on this, are we?"

"I have good reasons, Aveline," Hawke smiled, "Trust me."

The Hanged Man was not particularly crowded this early in the morning, but all conversation stopped when Fenris walked into the bar. The noise of chatter picked up again when he moved to Hawke and her group. Whether they were talking about the elf or simply returning to previous conversations, Hawke couldn't be bothered to care.

"Good morning Fenris." She said brightly.

He nodded in response and took a seat across from Varric at the table.

Anders burst through the door not too long after. He looked around, found the group, and then hurried over. He said his hellos and then took a seat next to the dwarf, acutely aware that everyone was waiting on him.

Now that they were all gathered, Hawke and Varric explained the route that the group would take while everyone partook of a quick breakfast. It involved a day and a half climb up the mountain and a day's climb back down. Varric expected to find the elves without issue after talking to his contacts, and he showed the area on a map that Aveline provided.

"Flint Company isn't far from that spot." She added when Varric pointed to the expected location of the elves.

"Good." Hawke smiled. "Two bird with one stone. This appeals to me."

"Shall we get started then?" Carver asked impatiently.

Aveline rolled up the map as Hawke nodded. She told everyone to double check one more time that they had everything, and then she led the group out of the Hanged Man and then out of the city. The amulet around her neck pulsed in pleased anticipation.


	29. Laughter is Better

**Author's Note**:

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Constructive criticism is always welcome; suggestions too.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

Sorry for the delay in posting. The end of the semester is always hectic.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

* * *

><p>An hour or two of travel and the city was distantly below them. The mountain pass that Varric suggested they take was steeper than Hawke would have liked, but it cut the time they spent traveling down by about half a day.<p>

It had other advantages too. The view was really lovely. She missed the openness of Lothering. Everything in Kirkwall was so cramped and packed together; it made her uncomfortable on occasion. She found a nice rock perch to stand on that was out of the way while she admired the view and caught her breath. The city below in the distance and the mountain rising above made for quite the image. She wished she had the skill of a painter to capture it.

Her friends kept moving as she looked at the view; Aveline and Carver took point, and Hawke brought up the rear once they'd all passed. After just a few minutes, she realized what a wonderful position it was. People seemed to forget she was there, and she overheard some fairly amusing conversations.

The real reason she'd brought everyone was to see how they all got along. She planned on working with all of them and wanted to see who worked well together, who got along, and who to keep separate at all costs. That last one was fairly obvious. Fenris and Anders apparently couldn't see eye to eye about anything and seemed incapable of having a conversation that wasn't an argument. After half a day of their squabbling, Hawke ordered Anders to the front with Aveline and Carver and Fenris to stay closer to the back. This spread out their forces evenly and kept the two a fair distance apart.

Not that Anders and Carver really got along any better, but at least she didn't have to worry about Carver shoving his hand through Anders' chest or chopping his head off. Her brother could be hot headed, but he didn't strike out at people for insulting him or making him angry; their father had broken him of that habit years ago to keep from drawing unwanted attention. Fenris, on the other hand, was still a bit of an unknown. She wasn't sure how much restraint he had, or how much he was willing to employ when it came to the possessed mage.

Her ponderings were halted for a moment when she was forced to stop to catch her breath again. The running had helped her get around the city with no trouble, but climbing a mountain was a whole different story. Even using her staff to help couldn't make up the difference entirely. She leaned against a shady rock and put her hands on top of her head to make breathing a little bit easier.

Fenris, it seemed, noticed her lagging behind and came over to investigate.

"It's sad when the dwarf can out-climb me." She joked between breaths.

"Should I call for the others?" He asked.

She waved dismissively. "No, I just need a few moments."

He nodded and turned his attention to their surroundings, apparently intent on keeping watch while she recovered her air. She grinned. He had a sweet streak in him, even if he would deny it.

"So Fenris," she started, wanting to fill the silence, "what do you think of our friends?"

He glanced at her with an impertinently raised eyebrow at the presumptuous word and she smirked in response. "You do not wish to know my opinion."

"Ooh, that bad?" She smiled, trying to get him to lighten up. "Is there anyone you get along with?"

He frowned. "You are teasing me."

"Maybe a little." She admitted. "But don't take it personally."

He hmpf'd in response.

She decided that silence was probably safer and didn't continue the conversation. When she felt ready to catch up with the group, she pushed off from the rock and thanked Fenris for staying with her. He nodded and followed her up the mountain. When they found the rest of the group, the sun had finally sunk the rest of the way below the horizon and the others had set up camp.

Her own tent—which Carver had been carrying since Hawke was having enough trouble breathing—had been set up next to Aveline's, and she thanked her friend for doing it for her. The redhead nodded and passed Hawke a cup of tea that had been brewing over the fire.

"Sorry for missing the set up." She apologized.

Isabela winked at her. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'm sure you were busy."

"I was catching my breath." Hawke replied trying to smother whatever fantasy the pirate had cooked up in her head.

She just giggled instead. "Oh, I'm sure."

Hawke sighed, giving up. Anders sat down on the log next to her and handed her a plate of food. She thanked him and apologized again for missing the camp preparations.

"Not to worry." He said. "We agreed that you and Fenris would do the clean up."

"Joy." Hawke groaned, but she was smiling. She knew that it was fair since they had been absent.

Dinner conversation was pleasant. It seemed most everyone was getting along. Varric was certainly a good influence to the group mood and kept things light with stories and jokes. Isabela added a few of her own, though they tended toward the raunchier side of amusing. Anders shared a few tales of his time with the Hero of Ferelden and the other Wardens in Amaranthine, some of which sounded downright absurd.

As the others said goodnight and climbed into their tents, Hawke and Fenris cleaned away the dishes and took first watch. Hawke took the time to do her ward spells against vermin and insects while Fenris watched.

When he spoke, she nearly jumped. She hadn't expected him to try and make conversation. "May I ask you a question?"

"What's on your mind?"

"Your brother does not seem particularly fond of mages."

Hawke snorted a laugh. "That comes from growing up in a house with three of them. My father, Bethany, and I. We became very close while our father taught us how to control our magic. I think Carver was jealous; not of magic, but that we spent so much more time with Father than he did."

"Bethany?"

"Our sister. Carver's twin. She died protecting Mother from and ogre during our escape from Lothering." Hawke finished her ward and took a seat by the fire.

"It is difficult for you to talk about." He observed.

Hawke nodded her head. "We lost a lot. Our home, our friends, Ser Pup and Bethany... Mother still cries sometimes; she thinks we don't notice, but we do."

"Ser Pup?" The name sounded even more ridiculous in Fenris's deep voice, and it made Hawke smile sadly in remembrance.

"My Mabari. We got separated on our way out of the city. He was just a pup; I want to believe he survived, found someone to take him in, but… " She shook her head. "I wish I could see him again. And Bethany. And Father."

Fenris was silent; she thanked him silently for not feeding her platitudes. They didn't help.

"Do you… wish to talk about them?" He asked after a while.

She smiled. "Maybe tomorrow. We are supposed to be watching the camp."

He nodded, a smirk on his face. "Very well."

Their watch ended in companionable silence some hours later and Hawke woke Aveline and Varric before crawling into her tent. She prepared herself to enter the Fade and then slipped into a grateful sleep.

The next morning, Anders roused her from sleep by wafting a plate of bacon in front of her tent. The smell brought her to full wakefulness and her stomach decided to inform her that it really wanted that bacon.

She crawled out of her tent and followed the smell of bacon. When she reached for it, Anders lifted it above her head with a smirk. She had no intention of reaching for it, so she crossed her arms and gave him a defiant smirk as Carver came up behind him. Her brother grabbed the plate easily, being quite a few inches taller than Anders.

"No one's allowed to do that but me." Carver growled.

To prove his point, he proceeded to hold the plate even higher over her head.

"Jerk face."

Carver just smirked.

Her stomach growled audibly and her brother laughed.

She turned when Aveline tapped her on the shoulder. Her friend handed her a plate of bacon and received a beaming smile as a thank you.

"Spoil sport." Carver grumbled.

Hawke ate her bacon greedily and sat by the fire. She smiled pleasantly at Isabela when the pirate handed her a cup of hot tea, though she sipped it cautiously to make sure it wasn't spiked. All she found was some honey, which was agreeable enough.

Varric finished dishing out food to everyone as they gathered around the fire. Carver helped himself to the plate he'd tried to keep from Hawke and to a portion of seconds when the dwarf offered. Carver always ate a lot. Surprisingly, Fenris and Anders each had just as much as Carver. She supposed, as a warrior, Fenris would have a similar appetite, but Anders was a mage.

"Aren't you worried about maintaining your girlish figure?" Hawke teased him as Anders helped himself to thirds.

The mage blushed a little. "Warden thing." He said, though he didn't seem keen on elaborating further.

"Between the three of you, we've gone through our entire supply of breakfast." Varric grumbled. "We'll be hunting from here on out."

Hawke chuckled. Camping trips with Carver had always ended that way, though it usually took more than one day.

After breakfast, everyone helped with striking the campsite. Once everything was settled in respective packs, the group moved out. Hawke sent Carver and Anders to the rear guard while she and Fenris joined Aveline up front.

Since Hawke was up front, when she slowed to catch her breath, so did Aveline and Fenris. She apologized, but neither seemed at all agitated by the delay. Fenris was curious though.

"You do not look the type to be so hampered by travel, Hawke." He commented on her third break.

She smiled. "Thank you, Fenris." She heard Isabela chuckle and blushed a little. The compliment had been a consequence of asking his question, but it was still a compliment. In answer to his question, she added, "A caught an arrow with my lung about a year ago. Didn't heal quite right. I'm fine around the city, but climbing a mountain…? Not so much."

"Do the strip tease again!" Isabela called merrily. Varric chuckled.

Hawke glared at the pirate, but didn't acknowledge her otherwise. Fenris wisely chose to ignore the comment as well.

They ate lunch on the move. Hawke's delays had set them back and eating on the road was a way to make up some lost time. She chatted a little with Aveline about how the transition to Guard Captain was going while they munched on jerked beef. She was happy to learn that the guardsmen seemed to approve of the promotion. Hawke had wondered if the guards would mind having a Ferelden for Captain, but it seemed that they found her far more palatable than Jeven.

While they talked, Hawke noticed that Fenris glanced occasionally at Aveline's shield. He seemed confused by it, if she was reading his frown as confusion. She found his facial expressions difficult to read at times.

Aveline noticed too, because she finally commented to the elf, "You can ask, Fenris. I won't mind."

The elf showed no reaction to having been caught staring, and asked, "Why do you carry the shield of a Templar? Are you in the order?"

"It belonged to my husband, Wesley. He was a Templar; I carry his shield in his memory." Aveline explained.

"When did he die?" Varric asked. The dwarf had ventured closer when he sensed a story being told.

"Just over a years ago. On our escape from Ferelden."

"Father always said that not all Templars were vicious mage-haters, that some were good people. Wesley was the first one I'd met that proved him right." Hawke said.

Aveline smiled at her. It was a small smile, but Hawke counted it as a victory nonetheless.

"You don't talk about your father much, Hawke." Varric was clearly fishing for a story now.

She smiled at the dwarf. "How would you know? We only met a few days ago."

"Keeping secrets? That implies you don't trust me. I'm hurt, Hawke."

Hawke chuckled, but she proceeded to tell a few amusing stories of training mishaps with her and Bethany. Her father had enormous levels of patience and never yelled; he would laugh or shake his head, tell them what they'd done right, what went wrong, and then how to fix it. Since both her and her sister had a talent for the more destructive schools of magic, what went wrong typically ended in something on fire, so Malcolm had made a point of teaching his girls several small charms and incantations to create water or trap the fire until it burned out.

"And healing of course," Hawke added, "but Bethany was always better at it than I was."

"You're a fine healer, Hawke." Aveline assured her.

"I can attest to that." Isabela added cheerfully.

Hawke smirked, "You had hardly more than a flesh wound. Not difficult, and not life threatening."

The pirate just shrugged, dismissing Hawke's dismissal.

Eventually, between Varric's persistence and occasional comments from Fenris, Hawke opened up a bit about life in Lothering and Ferelden in general. She commented first on how much warmer it was in Kirkwall as she wiped sweat from her brow. The dwarf chuckled; having lived in Kirkwall all his life, he was used to the heat.

Fenris told her that Tevinter was even hotter than the Free Marches, and she promptly declared Tevinter off-limits for any and all future requests for help except in very extreme cases.

Discussion opened up toward the end of the day. Topics ranging from escaping from Templars to pranks and practical jokes among siblings were shared and Hawke found it so much easier to talk about Bethany when she could laugh.

She shared first watch with Fenris again. After dinner, the others retreated to their tents and slept, leaving her and the elf to guard. She set her standard wards and then helped Fenris with cleaning the dishes.

He handed her a warm cup of tea once they were done cleaning. She smiled and thanked him, careful not to touch his markings as she accepted the tea. She took a sip and hummed in appreciation. He might be distrustful of magic, but he made a mean cup of tea.

"I don't think I've talked so much since we left Lothering." She commented absently.

"It is fortunate that this path is infrequently traveled." Fenris said. "A raiding party would have heard us coming while our focus was… elsewhere."

She wasn't sure if he had meant it to be as harsh as it had sounded, but Hawke was a little hurt. She sipped her tea before she spoke in order to ease the slight tightness. "Sorry. I'll try not to distract us again."

He looked at her through a mess of white locks and she kinda wanted to brush it behind his ear so that she could see his eyes. It was a lot easier to judge what someone was thinking when she could see their eyes. That was all. It had nothing to do with him having really nice eyes. Nothing.

"I meant no offense, Hawke."

She sipped her tea and nodded. Absently, she fiddled with the amulet around her neck. It was almost a pressure or weight now, eager and impatient. She wanted it gone. She had been able to ignore it for a whole year, but now that she was so close, the amulet would not let her forget. It felt aware and that bothered her. She wondered what she was carrying, or who.

Fenris's voice brought her out of her musings. "That amulet holds great power."

She focused her attention on him and saw that he was staring intently at the pendant in her hand. "It's why we're out here. I'm delivering it to the Dalish Keeper."

"For what purpose?"

"Because that's what I was told." Hawke answered. "I didn't ask for details."

He held out his hand, "May I?"

She slid it off her neck and dropped it into his hand. She watched with interest as his face went from contemplative, to surprised, to disgusted, and finally landed on confused. When he handed it back to her, she felt the amulet's amusement and was temped to drop it and smash it. The thing was seriously starting to weird her out. She put it on anyway.

"When will we reach the Dalish?"

"Before midday tomorrow."

"Good." He snapped. "The sooner it is gone, the better."

She agreed.

She noticed he kept throwing the amulet glances that ranged from caution to outright hostility as their watch wore on. She found it mildly amusing and fought to keep the smirk off her face.

"I could put it in my pack if it bothers you so."

"Will it let you?" He asked, again completely unconcerned that he had just been caught staring.

She supposed it was a valid question. She took off the amulet again and drew her pack over. She opened a side pouch and dropped it in. Question answered. She closed the pouch and smirked at him.

Then the headache hit.

"Ow." She put her hand to her temple and whimpered.

She heard Fenris growl and then the amulet was around her neck once more. The pounding dissipated, but didn't fade completely, probably as a lesson to not do that again. She exhaled and leaned back, intending to rest on the ground. Instead, her head met solidly with Fenris's midsection, specifically his chest plate.

It hurt.

"Ow."

"Don't throw your head against my armor then." He sighed.

"I was trying to lie down." She sat back up and rubbed the back of her head.

"I apologize."

"No, don't. You stopped… whatever just happened." She frowned. "I guess it didn't like me putting it in my pack."

"It shouldn't be able to like or dislike anything." Fenris growled.

"A lot of things happen that shouldn't." Hawke said quietly.

Fenris sat next to her by the fire and handed her his cup of tea. She had dropped hers when the headache struck. She smiled at him, grateful, took a sip, and nearly choked.

"Fenris."

"Hm?"

"This is not tea."

"Observant." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"You brought a bottle of wine?"

"I did." He was now drinking from the bottle.

She took another sip. Now that she was expecting wine, she found that it was actually rather good. "Is this the Aggregio?"

"No, sadly. I did not wish to risk the bottle breaking."

She grinned. "Especially since there aren't any walls to redecorate around here."

He laughed quietly, and she was glad for it. The incident with the amulet had put him in a sour mood. Laughter was always better.


	30. Special Delivery

**Author's Note**: Long chapter is loooooooooong!

Thank you to all who favorite and review and follow, it gives me warm fuzzy feelings every time :D Constructive criticism is always welcome; suggestions too.

Also, I've got another story going. It's a Mass Effect thing, so y'all may or may not be interested, but if you are, take a look. It's nothing major, just a fun challenge to help me practice writing.

Sorry for the delay in posting. The end of the semester is always hectic.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, BioWare owns all!

* * *

><p>The next morning, Hawke got out of her tent while the sky was still pre-dawn grey. The amulet would not let her go back to sleep. She resigned herself to the inconvenience and joined Isabela and Carver around the fire.<p>

"You're up early." Carver said.

"Couldn't go back to sleep." She accepted a cup of tea from Isabela and drank it down. Once she finished it, she moved a little ways off and meditated. She hadn't done it yesterday, but they would reach the Dalish this morning and she wanted to be at her best.

When she rejoined the others, Aveline and Varric were also coming out of their tents and greeting the dawn. Hawke helped with breakfast and passed an extra full plate of food to Fenris when he stepped out of his tent.

He nodded his thanks and began eating as he made his way to the fire and sat next to Aveline.

She gave Anders a plate of food as well when he finally made an appearance. He gave her a hug in appreciation and quickly devoured his food. She grabbed the seat between her brother and Varric as Anders took the seat next to Isabela.

While they were all enjoying their breakfast, Aveline and Varric gave a basic rundown of the area up ahead and where they expected to find the different groups. Aveline believed that the Flint Company mercenaries wouldn't be but an hour or two from their current location. Varric said that his reports put the Dalish not too much further beyond the mercs.

They'd reach both before midday.

Once breakfast was over, everyone broke down camp and gathered their things. Hawke put Aveline and Isabela in the lead, followed by Carver and Anders, and then Varric, Fenris, and she would take rear guard. The formation would hold while they were on the narrow trail, and gave a good distribution of skills should they be attacked.

Once the narrow path merged with the main trail up the mountain, the area widened quite a bit. The group spread out a little, but kept the same basic formation. When they reached a clearing, Aveline signaled a stop. Hawke made her way to the front of the line when Aveline signaled her up.

"Flint Company should be in the area." Aveline whispered.

Hawke nodded. They were all currently hiding behind a large section of rock, and were safe, for the moment. "Isabela, do you think you can scout the area without attracting attention?"

She sighed with a smile, "You're such a slave driver."

The pirate did slink off, however, and returned several tense minutes later. After building the basic lay of the land with loose rocks and sticks, she reported that there was a rather large group of mercenaries camped just on the other side of the clearing.

"Define rather large." Hawke requested patiently.

She saw the urge to make a dirty remark behind the glint in Isabela's eyes, but the pirate restrained herself on account of Hawke's, "Behave" glare.

"Twenty, give or take."

"Flames." Aveline frowned.

"That' not… terrible odds." Isabela supplied, a little unhelpfully.

Hawke nodded, an idea already forming. "If we can get the jump on them… Anders!" The other mage was by her side in an instant. She relayed her plan to the group, secretly pleased when she caught Aveline nodding in approval, and then hurried off with Anders to give Flint Company a warm welcome.

Hiding and ducking from boulder to boulder, Hawke and Anders quickly and quietly moved ever closer to the camp. She didn't want to get too far ahead of the others, just in case, but she needed to be in range for the plan to work. When she judged that they were close enough she looked to Anders for agreement; when he nodded, she took a deep breath, stood up from behind cover, and then let loose with a fireball the same time Anders called down fire from the sky.

The effect was instant. Flint Company (those who weren't too badly burned) grabbed nearby weapons and ran toward the mages. This, of course, being what Hawke expected them to do, only made her smile. She hurled lightning at the on coming mercs and suppressed the urge to shout verbal taunts. She'd need her air for the next part of the plan.

The two mages flung spell after spell at the advancing company—killing more than a few—until Hawke felt like they were close enough, then she gave Anders the signal to high-tail it back to the others. She occasionally threw a spell over her shoulder as she ran, but she trusted Varric to keep them from getting too close.

She and Anders ran for all they were worth to the natural choke point that the others had been hiding behind. Flint Company would be forced to follow only a few at a time and would be easy pickings for the five that were waiting.

The plan worked well, the mercs were picked off as they ran through the choke point, until someone caught on and ordered the others to hold back.

Hawke smirked. She tossed another fireball, just a little beyond where most of them had gathered, singeing a few and making them cluster a bit closer. Once they were in a nice little group, she ordered Varric to make it rain while she and Anders cast lightning to stun them.

The last of the mercs fell and her companions received only very minor injuries. Anders patched them up while Varric, Isabela, and Carver started going through the bodies. She occasionally heard grumblings from her brother about how burned and punctured armor lost most of its resell value. Hawke didn't care; her plan had worked marvelously.

Varric pulled an amulet off one of the dead that had the Vael family crest on it and gave it to Hawke. "His Highness might like this back."

"I'll see that he gets it." She nodded, placing it in her belt pouch, separate from items they intended to sell later.

After stripping the camp of useful items, Hawke and company continued down the trail. The Dalish were supposed to be close, so she told everyone to keep sharp. She expected that the elves would see them long before anyone in her group saw the elves, but that was no reason to be reckless.

"How are you feeling?" Aveline asked as they continued walking.

Hawke shrugged, "Fine. No injuries, at least."

"How are your reserves?" Anders asked. He'd taken a lyrium potion after he finished healing everyone.

"My reserves fine. Why are you both looking at me like that?"

"Because you're sweating buckets and paler than usual." Isabela said bluntly.

Anders made her stop so that he could check her over while the others looked on, a little worried. She tried to brush him off, but the mage was insistent. Even Carver told her to stop squirming.

When Anders couldn't find anything wrong, Hawke stepped away from him and mumbled about people who couldn't listen.

"It's the amulet, isn't it." Fenris said finally.

She ignored the curious glances from the others and nodded. The pressure getting more intense, but it wasn't a physical thing. Oddly, it seemed to weigh on her magic, which was disturbing on a whole other level.

"They aren't too far now; let's move."

No one argued and Hawke led the way. Aveline handed her a kerchief to wipe her brow and she thanked her friend. She didn't want to look weak in front of potentially dangerous elves.

Not too much further down the path, Isabela tapped Hawke on the shoulder. "Eyes above."

It seems the Dalish had found them at last. Not too much further then. Hawke nodded and pressed on, not bothering to look for the elves. She wouldn't find them.

Finally, about an hour before they would have stopped for a midday meal, they reached the entrance to the Dalish camp. They were confronted by two elves at the entrance.

"Turn around Shemlan; there is nothing for you here." The woman said.

"What did you call me?" Hawke asked, curious. She'd never heard the word before. It didn't sound particularly nice though.

"Shemlan. It means human." Fenris supplied.

"It means," the male elf said, glaring at Fenris, "you're not one of the Elvhan."

"Oh. And who are you?" She asked, wanting their names. What they gave her was not really what she was looking for.

"We are the Dalish, the last of the Elvhan."

"Hear that, Hawke? Other elves you see, are just figments of your imagination." Varric smirked.

Hawke tried very hard to not laugh, especially after the look Fenris gave Varric. She gathered her composure and tried again. "I'm Hawke, I'm looking for your Keeper, Marethari? I was told to bring her something."

"You have no business here—" the man repeated, but his counterpart interrupted.

"Wait. This is the one the Keeper spoke of, the one we've been waiting for."

"A Shemlan? I thought she'd be an elf."

"Sorry to disappoint." Hawke muttered. She didn't care too much for the rude welcome.

The elves glared at her. "You have permission to enter the camp, but if you bring any trouble, you'll meet our blades."

Hawke nodded and led her group into the camp. She ignored the mutterings of the elves that they passed by. Most were simply surprised to see a human, but some didn't sound very pleased at all that they were here.

Hawke looked around to see if there was someone who might obviously be Marethari and found an elderly elf carrying what looked to Hawke as a very intricately detailed staff. Which meant she was probably a mage and probably who she was looking for.

She also saw an elf who appeared to be a trader with his wares on display.

"Carver, take Varric and Fenris to that merchant, see if he'd be willing to trade with us. We'll be by the fire." When Carver gave her a look, she rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, we won't leave without you."

The three nodded and left to go talk to the agitated elf behind the counter. Hawke led the rest of the group to who she hoped was Marethari.

"Are you Keeper Marethari?"

"I am, child." She said with a smile. "I have been expecting you."

"Sorry to keep you waiting." Hawke apologized.

The Keeper waved her concern away with a smile and said, "Come closer, let me look at you."

Hawke stepped a bit closer to the elf and allowed her to make eye contact.

_The Keeper had seen much and it had made her very wise. She was exceptionally caring as well; she cared for each member of her clan as if they were her own children. She was honest and steadfast, but she also had a sharp sense of humor. Hawke liked her instantly._

Marethari looked at her in surprise and then smiled. "Well, aren't you the interesting one?"

Hawke realized that the Keeper must have the same ability to look into the eyes of a person and see a bit of who they are. She hadn't ever met a mage who could, except maybe Flemeth, but she had no doubt that was what had happened.

"Wouldn't want life to get boring." Hawke smirked. She pulled the amulet from around her neck, hesitating only a second to make sure the headache didn't reappear. When it didn't, she handed the Keeper the amulet. "I was told to bring this to you."

The Keeper took the amulet from Hawke's hands and looked at it carefully. When she looked back up at Hawke, she asked, "Tell me, how did this burden come to you?"

"She helped us escape Ferelden during the Blight. In return, she wanted me to bring you the amulet." Hawke felt reasonably sure she didn't need to tell Marethari who had saved them because the elf already knew. By the sage nod Hawke received, she'd guessed correctly.

"Unfortunately, you're task is not yet done." The Keeper handed the amulet back to Hawke who accepted it with a small sigh. "You'll need to bring the amulet to the alter at the top of the mountain and recite the Dalish Rite for the Departed. Do this and your debt will be paid in full"

"Are you going to teach me this Rite?"

The Keeper shook her head. "I'm sending my First with you. She'll know what to do… and when you are done, I must ask that you take Merrill with you when you go." The Keeper said sadly.

"That… seems like an odd request." Hawke was a little taken aback.

"It is," the Keeper admitted, "but it is what Merrill wants."

"Will I have to find a place for her to stay?" Hawke was already thinking about who would be willing to do her a favor… Giles maybe. He was an elf and might make Merrill feel more comfortable.

"Arrangements have already been made; she simply needs an escort down to the city."

Hawke nodded. "Right. We can handle that. Where is she?"

"Merrill will be waiting for you at the trail." The Keeper pointed to a path that led steeply up the mountain.

Hawke whimpered quietly for her lungs and vowed to do even more running just in case she ever had to do any more mountain excursions.

She gathered her friends and brother and had a small team meeting before heading towards the trail. "Alright, the rest of the way looks fairly steep. If any of you want to stick around here and wait for me to come back, I'd understand."

"I'm coming with you." Aveline said immediately. Hawke rather doubted she would have stayed behind.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to the Keeper. There seem to be a few sick here…" Anders' train of though was wandering away from the group.

Hawke pulled him closer to her and whispered in his ear, "Don't make eye contact with the Keeper. It hurt when I did it, and I'm betting she sees a lot more than I do."

His shoulders slumped a little, but he nodded before walking away.

She ignored quirked eyebrows, and pointedly ignored Isabela's question of what naughty nothings she'd just whispered into Anders' ear, to continue the previous conversation.

"Someone should keep an eye on Blondie." Varric stated. When no one volunteered, the dwarf sighed. "Fine, but I expect the full story when you get back."

"Don't worry, Varric, I'll tell you every detail." Isabela smirked.

"Carver, Fenris, which one of you wants to stay with Varric and Anders?"

"Why do either of us have to babysit?" Carver demanded.

Hawke sighed, "Because three is better than two? If I'm going to leave people, I want them to be safe."

Carver hmpfed and glared at his sister.

"I will stay." Fenris stated, only a little grudgingly, when it became clear that Carver was not volunteering.

Hawke smiled her thanks and Varric led Fenris off to start a game of Diamond Back. Despite the Dalish's standoffish nature, Hawke decided she wouldn't be surprised in the least to see a few join the game by time they returned. Varric had a way off attracting a crowd when he had a mind to.

"Glad that's settled." Hawke clapped her hands together in mock excitement. "Let's get started, shall we?"

She led her group up the path that the Keeper had pointed out, already hating the steepness. When she heard something odd, she motioned to the others to be quieter as they hiked. When she rounded a bend, Hawke saw a small elf crouched down with her back to Hawke and the group. The strange noise seemed to be louder nearer the elf, so Hawke approached, curious.

A twig snapped beneath her foot and the elf jumped a little. She turned to look at what had made the twig break and saw Hawke. The little elf turned back to what she was doing and the noise stopped before she stood and walked over.

For a moment Hawke just stared at her. She was perhaps the most adorable person Hawke had ever seen. Including small children. Black hair in an odd haphazard arrangement of ties capped a slender face with huge green eyes, delicate nose, and gentle mouth. Her Dalish markings only emphasized her petite face. She was smiling nervously as she approached, and Hawke decided that she rather liked the look of this elf. Much friendlier than the others—except for the Keeper—that she'd met.

"You must be the one the Keeper spoke of. Aneth'ara." She said with a smile. Oddly, the smile fled her face in an instant. "I'm sorry! I forgot to ask your name, unless… It's not rude to ask a human their name is it? I'm Merrill, but you probably knew that; I'm sorry, I'm rambling."

Hawke decided to speak as soon as Merrill stopped to take a breath. "You'll have to work a bit harder than that to offend me. I'm Hawke."

"Nice to meet you."

"And it is _very _nice to meet you, Kitten." Isabela flirted shamelessly with the poor girl, who looked mildly overwhelmed at meeting so many humans at once. Hawke was starting to wish she had brought Fenris.

Hawke gave Isabela a mild glare and then smiled reassuringly to Merrill. "So what's the plan?"

"We have to bring the amulet to the graveyard at the top of the pass, and then I'll perform the Rite. We should get started. You're task is for Asha'bellanar, it is not wise to keep her waiting."

"Have you met her?" Hawke asked surprised.

Merrill shook her head fervently. "No, I've only heard stories. You met her though, yes? And you're still in one piece; you're very lucky."

That made Hawke more than a little nervous. "Right. Lead on."

Merrill nodded and hurried up the path. Hawke followed close behind. The further up they traveled, the more Hawke's skin prickled. Something was not quite right with the area…

When skeletons burst from the ground, Hawke had her answer. Her staff was in her hands and swinging toward the closest skeleton before it was even fully out of the ground. When its head skittered away, detached from its body, she called a chunk of earth and flung it at another that was creeping up on Aveline.

The redhead made quick work of the skeleton in front of her, bashing it apart with her shield before sidestepping to block the downward swing of another. Hawke felt reasonably certain that Aveline had it covered and moved her search of the field to her brother.

Carver was shattering reanimated bones with his new sword and grinning like a fool. She sighed, iced one that was sneaking up behind him, and then turned to find Merrill.

The little elf was wielding a staff and magic to take care of the skeletons closest to her, but she seemed to be a little overwhelmed. Before Hawke could move to assist, Isabela appeared behind one of the skeletons to stab it in the… spine, Hawke supposed since it didn't have any skin left. Satisfied that the two were fine, Hawke split her focus between helping Aveline and Carver until all of the skeletons were dead.

When it was clear that they weren't getting back up, everyone sheathed their weapons and took a breath.

"The Keeper didn't mention you were a mage." Hawke said conversationally.

"All Keepers know a little of the old magic. It's said that all Elvhan once had the gift, but like so many things, it was lost." Merrill explained.

Hawke tended to minor injuries before asking, "So are you a Keeper?"

"I'm First to the Keeper. A First takes over when a Keeper dies."

"So you're an apprentice?"

"I… suppose, yes."

"Don't you worry about Templars?" Carver asked.

"We keep to ourselves, away from human cities. We're never in one place long enough for the Templars to become an issue."

"Kirkwall will be different." Hawke told her gently.

"I know. But it's better than being alone. A lone elf is an easy target for any predator, magical or otherwise."

Aveline tapped Hawke on the arm and she nodded. They needed to get moving, there would be time for discussion later. "We should keep going."

Merrill nodded and they continued up the mountain, fighting their way through a nest of rather large spiders until they reached a small summit. There, another elf from the clan confronted them. He was confrontational towards Merrill and left as soon as Merrill confirmed that she would be leaving with Hawke once their task was done.

The whole conversation made Hawke feel a little awkward, like she'd stumbled upon a private moment and should apologize. Isabela had no such qualms. The pirate was obviously intensely curious, but Merrill wouldn't talk about it. They continued up.

When they reached the mouth of a cave, Merrill stopped.

"I'm sorry." She said sadly. "You're not really seeing the Dalish at their best. We're good people who take care of each other, just… not today apparently."

Hawke hadn't seen much beyond hostility, but the Keeper was kind, and so was Merrill. She decided to try to cheer the little elf up. "They seem so nice! I was about to invite them to my house for tea."

"I'm sure they'd never… oh. Sarcasm, right." Merrill smiled a little before turning to the mouth of the cave. "We'll have to go through the cave to get to the graveyard; it isn't far now."

Hawke nodded and followed Merrill into the dark cave. They cleared out the spiders and skeletons and shadow people—Hawke was still a littler perplexed as to _exactly_ what they were—and Hawke made note of a silverite deposit before adding a small sample to the Elfroot she'd found on their way up the mountain. Elegant wouldn't be able to use it, but she might direct Hawke to someone who could.

When they left the cave, Hawke took a moment to enjoy the fresh air. She looked around and saw, far below, the Dalish camp. She suppressed the urge to wave to her friends below.

She turned to join her companions and saw a barrier blocking the path forward. Aveline and Carver were arguing quietly how to get passed it while Isabela examined the area. Hawke walked up to Merrill; the little elf was looking at the barrier with determination.

"Got an idea?"

"I can open the way. One moment." Merrill stepped forward.

Hawke directed Carver and Aveline to step back; she wasn't sure what spell Merrill was going to try, and she didn't want them caught in the middle. When the elf pulled a dagger from her belt, Hawke got a very bad feeling she knew where this was going. Before she could say anything though, Merrill slashed her wrist and then directed the forces of blood magic to dispel the barrier.

"That… was that what I think it was?" Aveline demanded.

"Blood magic." Hawke confirmed. "You summoned something."

"Yes, it's blood magic, but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us, didn't it!" This was the source of the hostility from her clan; Hawke could read it in the way Merrill's voice pleaded.

Hawke was suddenly very, very glad that she had left Fenris in the camp.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure the demon is _very_ helpful." Hawke drawled, "Right up until it possess you!"

"A demon is just another spirit, like honor or joy. They can't help being what they are."

Hawke took a deep breath and then walked up to Merrill. Very deliberately, she placed a gentle hand on each of the elf's shoulders and then looked her in the eye.

_Merrill was not possessed. The blood magic was like a taint on her soul, slowly creeping its way to consuming her, but it wasn't there yet. She was naive and prideful, but curious and sweet. She had a bright outlook on life despite several heartaches, and was an overall decent person with an eagerness to see new things._

"She's not an abomination." Hawke said quickly after breaking eye contact. She heard her Aveline and Carver sheath their weapons and felt Merrill relax beneath her grip.

"You see things, the way the Keeper does!" She was excited.

Hawke smirked a little and nodded. "I'm certain Marethari is better at it than I am."

"I've never met anyone else who could! You must be very powerful."

"I don't think it has much to do with power, Merrill." Hawke let go of the elf and let her lead the way in to the graveyard. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she shivered.

"Be careful up ahead." Merrill cautioned, sensing it as well. "Restless things prowl the heights."

"She's right. The Veil is thin up here. Be on your guard."

"In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep. Uthenera, the endless dream, they called it. But they don't sleep peacefully anymore." Merrill told her

The atmosphere was tense with anticipation as the group walked carefully among the graves. Hawke found a cluster of deep mushrooms that she collected for Thomwise, but there didn't seem to be anything else in the immediate area. She moved on, seeing the alter up ahead.

As she approached, she felt the Veil shift. She drew her staff, and heard her companions follow suit with their own weapons, before stepping closer. The Arcane Horror stepped out of a small rift in the Veil and Hawke did not hesitate to clock him in the head with her staff. While he was disoriented, she iced him, followed quickly by a bolt of lightning.

When the thing started casting, she hit it with a Stone Fist—so named by Varric—and smiled to herself when it lost concentration. It didn't last long however, and the Arcane Horror quickly finished its spell and promptly disappeared.

"Son of a—" Hawke was interrupted by a skeleton that went flying past her person, quickly followed by Aveline.

Hawke turned to look for her friends and found chaos. There were skeletons everywhere and more of those shadow people. The Arcane Horror hadn't reappeared yet.

She set to distracting the skeletons, starting with the one Aveline was engaging. She batted its head off its shoulders and pointed Aveline to the shadow people. She wanted Carver and Aveline to take care of the stronger enemies while Isabela helped her and Merrill take out the skeletons quickly. Carver was already engaging a shadow person, so she directed Aveline to take care of the other one.

Hawke ran to Merrill and told her to focus on the skeletons, keeping her voice calm in order to keep Merrill calm. She got the sense that the elf hadn't done much real fighting before today, and she wanted to keep her calm and focused.

Spells managed to keep the skeletons sufficiently distracted long enough for Carver to finish off the first shadow person. He joined Aveline in taking out the second one.

The Arcane Horror reappeared as Carver was crossing the battlefield. It started casting as soon as it appeared and that sickly purple mist surrounded it, catching both Carver and Aveline in its wake.

"Merrill!" Hawke pointed to the Arcane Horror and then threw another Stone Fist to throw off its spell. Catching on, Merrill directed her spells at the fiend as well. Combined with Merrill's attack, the mist disappeared.

That did not stop the barrage of spells that Hawke slung at it, however. She didn't stop until it dropped several minutes later. She dropped to her hands and knees, out of breath and mana, but the battle was over, so she wasn't too concerned.

"Hawke!" Merrill was closest and began fretting as soon as Hawke hit the ground.

"Just out of breath." She panted, weakly waving her off. She sat back in a more relaxed position and fished a lyrium potion out of her pack. She drank it faster than she normally liked to, but she could see that her friends needed healing, so her discomfort could wait.

She stood once she finished the potion, already feeling better, and pulled Carver over. She took the time to heal his wounds properly. He may not care if he got a few scars, but Leandra would freak out, and that was a headache Hawke simply did not need.

When he was all healed, Hawke moved on to Isabela, who, between her and Aveline, seemed to be the more hurt. When she was done, Hawke took another lyrium potion and then healed Aveline, despite her friend's protests.

"You should go easy on the lyrium."

"Unless Merrill is a healer," when the elf shook her head, Hawke continued, "I have to in order to patch you up. The Veil is still… unstable up here, and I need you in top order if we're going to make it back down the mountain."

Hawke finished up the healings and then joined in looting the bodies.

There wasn't much on the skeletons, but she did find a hefty pouch of coin on the Arcane Horror. "Not sure why these things need gold, but hey, I'm not going to complain."

"It should be safe now. Put the amulet on the alter and I'll begin the Rite." Merrill instructed eagerly.

"The Veil is still thin." Hawke said. "I want to explore the rest of this path before we do anything else."

"But—"

"I don't want to get interrupted by something unpleasant, do you?" Hawke asked. The elf shook her head. "Right. Better safe than sorry. Give me a few minutes and we'll head out."

Hawke handed her staff to Aveline and then stretched out a few times.

"The Rite won't take but a few moments…"

"If she's interrupted during meditation, nothing catastrophic happens. Can you promise the same if our task for the Witch is interrupted?" Aveline asked as Hawke began her meditation.

The silence was answer enough.

Hawke only meditated for ten minutes. Longer would have been nice, but she wanted to get this done and couldn't afford to take longer. It was enough, with the lyrium potions she'd taken, that she wasn't in danger of draining her reserves.

They braved the trail ahead, and Hawke gave everyone about three seconds warning before a Revenant appeared. It was a tough fight, even with all five of them attacking it at once and everyone needed healing afterwards.

"See!" Hawke pointed at the dead body as Isabela looted it. "This is why we explore an area before doing any kind of rituals. How awkward would that have been if he'd walked in on us?"

"She's right, Kitten. No one likes to be walked in on."

The innuendo flew right over Merrill's head, apparently, because all she did was murmur, "I see."

There was still more path to explore, however, so they kept going. When they reached what appeared to be the end, Hawke found a cave entrance that had another barrier in front of it.

"Huh. Wonder what's casting these." Hawke said as she stepped forward to examine it.

"Do you want me to—"

"No." Hawke said quickly. "Please don't. Whatever is keeping us out is keeping whatever's in there, in. No need to disturb it."

Merrill didn't object and for that, Hawke was grateful. She did not want Merrill to use any more blood magic, though she feared that she would be unable to stop it completely until she figured out what drove the little elf to blood magic in the first place.

She was curious about the barrier, though. She reached out her hand to touch it, to try to get a feel for the powers at work, but when she connected with it, she drew back quickly with a small hiss of pain.

It also summoned another shadow person and some shades.

Hawke risked getting a little singed when she threw a fireball at the shadow person, but she did not care. These things were deadly and the faster they died, the better.

Merrill, Carver, and Aveline took care of the shades while Isabela and Hawke dealt with the shadow. She threw lightning and ice at every opportunity to slow it down while Isabela hacked away at it with her daggers. Finally it dropped, but not before it landed some painful blows to both Hawke and the pirate.

Bloody, but alive, Hawke looked around and watched as the rest of her group killed the last shade. "Woo! Go team."

Carver handed both Hawke and Isabela a health potion. Isabela drank hers down without hesitation, but Hawke tried to hand it back.

"We don't have many of these."

"We have fewer of you, so take the bloody potion." He scolded. "Don't make me hold you down."

She glared, but drank. It was better than a lyrium potion, but not by much. He was right, anyway. She couldn't afford to heal either of them and they needed the help. She felt better as soon as the potion was gone and sighed at the hole in her shirt.

"Mother is going to fuss about this."

"Better than her fussing over you collapsing." Aveline pointed out.

"Indeed. Perspective is good."

Isabela set to looting the bodies and Hawke looked down at the corpse at her feet.

"What is this thing?" She demanded.

"Shadow Assassin." Merrill supplied. "Restless spirits twisted by rage. You only find them where the Veil is thin."

"Ooh, good name, Kitten. Varric will enjoy that."

As they walked back down towards the alter, Isabela kept Merrill entertained with stories of the friends they'd left in the camp between cooing over the dagger she'd pulled off the Shadow Assassin. Overall, further exploration of the path had led to some profitable finds and Hawke was certainly glad that they had made the effort to check it out.

When they made it back, Hawke felt confident that the Veil was stronger. She didn't think that they were going to meet any more nasty surprises, so she gave Merrill the go ahead to begin the Rite. She put the amulet on the alter and stepped back while Merrill began.

As Merrill chanted, Hawke found herself wishing she spoke elvish. It sounded very beautiful. She wondered what the words meant.

Her musings were interrupted when the amulet began to glow. As she watched, the light spread until it consumed the alter. When it faded, Flemeth stood before them. Smiling.

"Ah… and here we are."

Merrill bowed low, "An'darana ti'shan, Asha'bellanar."

"One of the People, I see." Flemeth looked over Merrill with some interest. "So young and bright. Do you know who I am, beyond that title?"

"I know only a little."

"Then stand! The People bend their knee too quickly." Flemeth then turned too Hawke. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half expected my amulet to wind up in a merchant's pocket."

Now it made sense. The amulet _had_ been aware; it had been Flemeth the entire time. It had also been Flemeth who kept her from simply putting the amulet in her bag earlier. Hawke doubted she would have been able to sell it even if she had tried.

Rather than saying any of this, however, Hawke said, "No one would take it. Perhaps because it had a witch inside it?"

Flemeth laughed. "Just a piece. A small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security should the inevitable occur, and if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

"Is that someone I should know?"

"She's a girl who thinks she knows what is what better than I or anybody." She laughed again. "And why not? I raised her to be as she is, I cannot expect her to be less."

"I'm not sure whether she's your daughter or your enemy."

"Neither is she."

Hawke decided to breeze right passed the part where that made sense and go on to slightly less disturbing subjects. "You have plans, I take it?"

"Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We have much to do. Before I go, a word of advice: We stand upon the precipice of change; the world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment, and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap! It only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

"Cheap advice from a dragon."

"We all have our challenges." Flemeth smirked.

"Are we going to regret bringing her here?" Carver asked quietly.

Flemeth heard him, though, and answered, "Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets, remember me."

Carver was either wise enough or not brave enough to respond.

Flemeth turned to Merrill again, "As for you child. Step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Ma seranas, Asha'bellanar."

Flemeth stepped towards Hawke, "Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks, and my sympathy." She handed Hawke a coin purse before turning away and transforming into a dragon and flying away.

"Yep." Hawke sighed. "Never dull."


End file.
